


A Sword, A Fiddle and A Lute.

by zero4life



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: (i don't care what you say destiny is not a lady), Action/Adventure, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Geralt and Alistair shutting Jaskier up, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, I Ship It, Idiots in Love, Jaskier and Alistair ganging up on Geralt, Jaskier and Geralt protecting Alistair, M/M, Magic, Mild Gore, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Threesome, Romance, Slow Burn, Threesome - M/M/M, Time Skips, What Was I Thinking?, everyone knows it except for them, geralt is a softy for kids, more accurate tags on the way, my lord i never wrote so many hmms in one chapter, no beta we die like witchers, slight comedy, there's little chance people will read this, what little gore you'd expect from a witcher fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:01:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 57,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22292251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zero4life/pseuds/zero4life
Summary: Come to think of it, AL (damn the pesky know it all) was right about one thing. They each made music in their own way. Of course Jaskier still considered himself the most professional among them. After all he was a Bard. He played his Lute to please the patrons of the taverns and tell tall tales of their adventures for the public's amusement. But when Geralt was working, Slaying monsters and fighting the horrors that people begged him to kill, his swords were singing. Steel humming in an incredible way. And whenever Alistair brought his fingers to his fiddle to call forth his magic, it was an incredible sound. But one not meant for public ears, lest they'd all drown themselves in their ale under the enchantment of his music. The instruments and purpose was not the same. They each carried a different tune. Though what a harmony they could conjure with it...
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Original Male Character(s), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Male Character(s), Jaskier | Dandelion/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 108





	1. Something Fishy

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I've heard of the games and books yet never actually played or read any of it. I've recently watched the Netflix series and it prompted me to write. So i apologize for inconsistencies and what not, because i'm on the 'show only' team and i'm in fact quite new to the fandom. (Not kidding, i decided to binge watch The Witcher like literally a week ago.) Jaskier's eyes are so pretty... But i digress, What i mean to say is i may make mistakes or ignore certain things accidentally (or on purpose, how would you know? :P) So please bare with me and if you disagree with anything or wish to leave tips or anything really, please feel free to leave a comment.
> 
> (Toss a comment to your Author, oh fandom of plenty ;)
> 
> I also know not everyone likes threesomes, i respect that. But i like it so i can't apologize for writing this. (Believe me i am a HUGE Jaskier/Geralt shipper, that's not the problem or the point. I just wanted to add an interesting character i think would stabilize these two idiots a little. If i write any more for this fandom it will just be Gerald/Jaskier though.)
> 
> I don't yet know how deep i want this story to go or how long it's gonna be. Most of it is just light romance, a whole lot of monster slaying, magic and slight comedy, further on some steamy smut. I will keep the tags updated with every chapter. But if there's anything i should warn about i will. 
> 
> Now without further ado onto the story because i doubt you came here to read an author yapping away and making excuses for the things he wrote.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt arrives in Touramesh low on everything, coin, food and sleep, there he meets the man who saved the village three days before his arrival in a most peculiar way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: My apologies if i switch between passed tense and present tense. I try not to mix them up but sometimes i don't even notice i'm doing it. Some events just write better in a certain tense and i forget that i wrote a different one before that. I'll try to keep it to a minimum but should you catch it somewhere in the story then i probably read over it or didn't see it.

Weeks. That's the longest Geralt of Rivia had ever gone without a contract. And yet now it seemed that record may be extended still. Coin was low if there at all. Supplies did not fare any better. Roach, bless the girl, loyally carried him wherever he wished to go. But she too would need better care. The break of a warm stable for instance. Instead of the wet muddy and cold lands they were pushing through. The last three towns had no monsters to be slain and urged him to move on by rocks flying at his head. Geralt knew when he was unwanted and so he moved on. Not wanting to make a fuss over it. But now, the dark stretched long, the cold formed into frost not firm enough to solidify the muddy ground and it made everything all the more unpleasant. If not for him, then he wished for Roach that the next town would be kinder. She deserved better. Fresh hay and oats for starters.

Everything was a soppy brown and dirty grey, the landscape would turn any human sad with it's mere looks. Geralt wasn't troubled by it. He disliked the mud and the rain but not nearly enough to be bothered by it. Rain just started to fall as Roach stepped into the small town with a snort.

"I know Roach."

Geralt replied in his usual gruff voice. The low thrum of it rumbling like faraway rolling thunder. Roach seemed to have found the inn as she trotted towards a larger house that had muffled sounds of people laughing, Singing out of tune and loudly talking, coming from the windows and the door. 

"hmm"

Geralt took one look at the place. It was bigger then he'd expect from such a small town, but then again, looks could be deceiving. He descended from Roach, his black boots hitting a puddle of frosty mud. The cold seeping into the leather instantly. It didn't bother him much. He took his swords and tucked them away in his pack, His cloak hanging stiffly over his shoulders from the cold and his hood had a rim of white frost tips on it. Geralt paused a moment before the door. Listening to the roused voices inside. They were exceptionally cheerful. Perhaps his luck hadn't run out yet. He pushed forward, opening the door, half expecting silence to fall, half expecting to hear just how unwelcome he was. 

Curiously. Neither happened.

A woman with a pitcher in her hand happily stalked up to him. 

"Now don't you stand out there in the cold dear. Come in, come in! We're a bit full up but i'm sure i can find a table for ya."

Geralt's shoulders lowered a bit. Not slumped, but not quite relaxed either. He was really low on coin. He could make two choices. Get himself food and a room, or get Roach food and a stable. The choice was easily made.

"Apologies. But i'd like my horse taken care of."

The woman nodded and called back.

"Danny Boy! Get the oats you lazy chap. This man's horse needs feedin'!"

A Boy ran up to her while hastily putting on a cloak. Geralt gave the woman the few coins he had, at the ready to make an apology for the low amount, but she would have none of it.

"If it's not enough-"

"Nonsense deary. Come in and warm yourself, it's cold outside."

The boy went outside to take care of Roach while Geralt felt momentarily stunned. Something very odd was going on here. He carefully stalked further into the inn that appeared to be the local tavern as well. That explained the size. Two facilities crammed into one, probably because the town was so small. The woman pressed a tankard of Ale into his hand, claiming it was on the house. Geralt stopped her, not that he didn't want the ale, but this was all a bit too strange for him.

"May i ask what the commotion is about? Everyone seems to be in uplifting spirits."

The woman beamed. 

"Oh the gods have blessed us surely! We thought we were done for. Our village makes a living off of the trout in the river. Ain't nothing else growing out here in this rotten soil. Then there were monsters, plaguing us since summer! Three days ago, A young man came by who dared to go fishing. He brought us back so many! We have fresh fish again! He goes out every morning. With any luck you'll catch him here tonight."

"Monsters?"

"aye, drowners them rotten beasts. Killed or scared away all our fishers until that lad came along."

"hmm"

Geralt accepted the ale and let the woman go about her business serving the patrons of the inn/tavern. He scanned the place but couldn't really sense anything out of the ordinary. They all stank of the same as any patron in a tavern would, ale, sweat, some piss and mud. They all looked half drunk, talked loud and laughed a little louder. Some staggered, others were sitting around a table swaying their tankards, ale sloshing and singing off tune. 

Geralt couldn't quickly spot an empty table in the overcrowded tavern. Certainly not his favorite spot, it seemed all the corners of the establishment had disappeared. No wall to sit his back to. Then the door opened and the boy that had gone to take care of Roach returned. He ran up to the woman and then the man near the ale caskets and He scrambled to get a meal together while the woman went straight up to a table in the corner and shooed the patrons away from it. Geralt resisted raising a brow, but he watched as another cloaked figure appeared in the door. He put a large basket down that the woman and the man both could barely carry to the back and he shrugged off his cloak. As soon as his blonde long hair came to view, patrons roared and applauded and cheered and rammed the tables with their tankards and steins. Geralt could see a hint of a smile before the man walked to the cleared table and took a seat.

His hair was long. Longer then that of any man Geralt had seen. It hung neatly tucked in a low pony tail, trailing over his shoulder all the way to his hip. It was blond, golden even but with a strange hue to it. As if the candle light of the tavern played some trickery on it and made it gleam with greenish tints in some lights. His features were that of a handsome young man. Not a wrinkle, not a line out of place. A mouth plump and delightful as it moved to thank the man who brought him his meal with ale. The crowd settled into their previous noisily encounters, leaving him alone to his meal. All except for Geralt, who moved closer. Curious but weary. 

When the witcher reached the table the man looked up. Silver eyes twinkling in the dim light. Not grey, not white, but silver. As silver as Geralt's sword. Pure silver orbs that looked at him with a hint of surprise but then settled into a gentle twinkle. His own amber reacted to the sight and turned gold to match the jewelry decorating the windows to one's soul. The man gestured to the wood bench across from him but Geralt did not take the invitation to sit. 

"It's dangerous and foolish to go fishing near a nest of drowners."

Geralt rumbled, just to provoke a reaction out of him. He wanted to see if the voice would match the appearance of this man. And if it would prove whether this man was smart or indeed a fool. 

"So i've been told"

The voice was light, a hum to it like butterfly wings clashing. Delicate and soft and yet there was an undertone to it that told you this was not a man who could be taunted or bullied. The voice flowed, rippling like water. Had Geralt not been more cautious of the situation he would have closed his eyes to listen. There was a faint scent entering his nostrils. One strong and sharp enough to penetrate the vile smells of the patrons here and the scents carried in from outside. It rose from the man before him. And yet, the scent was soft, easy on the senses. Something like fresh grassy soil after a gentle spring rain, a cooling pond in summer and the fresh fragrant of water lilies. It sparked something in the Witcher. It was familiar and yet he couldn't place it. 

"You don't seem like the kind of man who'd risk his life for some fish"

Geralt huffed. The stranger smiled, pearly teeth reflecting candle light.

"You don't seem the kind of man who'd be interested in fishing."

Geralt resisted the urge to snort and instead replied his own trademark answer.

"hmm"

Geralt finally accepted the open invitation to sit down at the same table. The stranger wove down the woman who'm Geralt had talked to before and she was with him very quickly.

"A meal to go with the man's ale Margareth."

She nodded and turned to get just that. Geralt felt the hunger stab hims as sharply as the knowledge of his empty purse.

"I don't-"

He started but he didn't get far. The stranger placed some coins on the table without a word and continued to feast on his own meal. A single questioning look of Geralt made the stranger defend his behavior.

"No man should battle on an empty stomach Witcher."

This raised an alarming amount of questions for Geralt. No one had recognized him as a Witcher yet, with all their euphorics of being saved and all that he couldn't blame them. But this man seemed to know his kind as well as his intentions. Now that he heard the nest of Drowners was here, he intended to rid this town of the pests. If only to fill his purse back up a little. 

"You know what i am?"

"And why you're here. No nest of drowners could be ignored by your kind. I warn you though, these people have been suffering for months. They just got their trade up and running again, they won't have much coin to offer."

"And yet they can afford to treat you like an honored guest."

"I earn my keep"

"With Fishing. So i've heard."

The man smiled. The twinkle in his silver eyes never dimming. Not even when his smile falters.

"These people needed me. No one else dared to go fishing. Nothing else will grow on these lands. They make their living with the trout from these rivers. Touramesh trout is famous in nearby towns but the trade had been cut off since the appearance of the Drowners last summer. Because there simply was no fish to trade."

"So instead of fighting drowners, you go fishing?"

"I'm not a Witcher. Stay far enough from their nest and they leave you well alone. Besides they're nocturnal, i fish by day."

"hmm"

Geralt halted their conversation when Margareth came to deliver him his meal and take the coins off the table. She smiled at the stranger perhaps a bit longingly and then left to care for other patrons. Geralt dug into the food. Grateful for something to fill his stomach with. There was also a fish with it, but biting into it, it tasted fresh and supple, more then he would expect from trout in drowner infested waters. There were things that weren't adding up.

When the man had finished his food, Margareth came to take his plate away.

"Another two ales please Margareth."

He politely asked. She smiled at him as he touched her hand briefly. Oh she was over the moon. Geralt could smell it on her. She wanted him. But the stranger in front of him did not give off the same interest. He paid on the spot for everything instead of running a tab. Never really at ease, as if he could bolt out the door at any moment, despite his calm and gentle demeanor. Something was off indeed. And Geralt being Geralt when it comes to monsters, couldn't help but pry.

"A wonder that these Fish are fresh. Anything downstream of drowner nests is dead and rotten. Upstream they could sense you, no drowner would leave a potential victim be."

"I suppose you know this because you once went fishing in drowner infested waters?"

The man retorted. He looked half amused half annoyed and it was a look Geralt recognized as one he himself often carried. Especially around a certain Bard who -thank the gods- decided he was going for a series of performances in smaller cities so their time travelling together was cut short. All for that stupid ballad 'toss a coin to your witcher' which seemed a growing success. Geralt was thankful it hadn't yet followed him here. 

Geralt huffed a puff of breath out of his nose in silence.

"You can show me then. Where you catch them."

He finally asked. This he had to see for himself.

"Why? Have you a sudden interest in fishing?"

"Fuck fishing."

The stranger snorted.

"Evidently not."

They were quiet for a while until Geralt finished his meal and started on his second ale that the stranger had ordered for him. He still didn't receive a name. The stranger seemed sunken into thought until Geralt set down his empty stein.

"Have you a room for the night?"

The stranger asked him. Geralt shook his head, studying the man a bit more. The stranger reached for his purse and placed another amount of coin for Geralt on the table. The Witcher wanted to protest but what was said next made him keep his silence.

"Use this and sleep well Witcher. I head out at first light when the rivers are calmest."

It was an unspoken invitation. One Geralt caught up on instantly. When the man stood up, Geralt's eyes fell on a blue waterlily crest pinned on a blue waistband whereas that was the only thing of color -beside his hair and eyes- that graced his figure. He stopped the man by holding a hand up to him.

"You got a name?"

The man gazed into his eyes. Silver orbs captivating Gold ones.

"Do you?... Witcher.."

"Geralt. Geralt of Rivia."

The man nodded.

"Alistair of Dalmar. Catch your sleep Geralt of Rivia. I wait for no one."

The man stalked off toward the back of the establishment where the stairs led up to the rooms of the inn. Geralt pondered over this peculiar situation for a moment before he walked up to the owner and ordered a room for the night. Sleep did not come to him that night.

* * *

The first rays of the sun were barely peaking above the gray and dreary landscape when Geralt readied himself. In armor, his swords close and a satchel of potions at his belt. From the window in his room he could see the square in front of the inn. The tavern downstairs was quiet as a mouse, a single drunk snoring patron in the corner who seemed to have been left to his own devices. Outside, Alistair was adjusting the straps to his basket that had been emptied and put aside for him. His cloak hung loosely from his lean shoulders. He was perhaps not broad build, but underneath his light brown clothing, soft yet firm muscles could be detected. He wasn't built like a warrior, but he was definitely the embodiment of some form of strength. The only colored thing that once again stood out was the blue lily at his waist. All his other clothing was simple and of small value. Geralt suspected the lily crest was the only valuable item Alistair possessed. The strange thing was that it didn't seem like a crest once you've taken a closer look to it. It was almost as if the lily was a real one. Alive. Opening and closing with the amount of sun rays cast upon it. Maybe that would explain it. If Alistair was a mage, all of this made sense. But the issue with that thought was that... he didn't smell like one.

Mages had a certain chaotic scent come forth from their power, mixed with the scent of their physical form. They didn't smell like sweet water ponds laced with lilies and fresh wet grass after rain. It was something earthy and yet when Geralt stepped out and that scent greeted him, it smelled sweet and inviting. Like a loaf of warm bread fresh from the oven. 

Alistair was just hoisting the basked onto his back when Geralt stepped out. The man looked up, Silver eyes shining like the shimmering surface of a calm rippling pond. All these water references.... What was it that was so familiar about it all? Where had he encountered this before? No matter how much he wrecked himself over memories of his previous battles, Geralt could not recall one in all those years that could place these familiarities into a specific encounter.

"Witcher. Have you eaten?"

The greeting was simple and short yet it laced concern wrapped around intent when Alistair asked him about breakfast. To be honest, Geralt hadn't really thought about it. After the meal last night he wasn't hungry and his mind was elsewhere. On the drowners he was going to slay for instance. And yet when Alistair pointed him to something simple as breakfast, he found that if he searched his needs, he could eat. Alistair's face curled up into a small smile as he tossed the Witcher half a small loaf of bread. It smelled of herbs, onion and garlic and Geralt took a bite to find it was still fresh and even still slightly warm. It tasted divine compared to what normally went for bread and the scent pleased the witcher, filling the half of his stomach the bread itself wouldn't fill.

"Something of yours?"

He asked. Low voice rumbling as always. 

"Made it myself before morning. Margareth lets me use the oven if i leave some for her to serve. I've told her plenty a time how to make it herself but she seems insistent upon having me make it for her. Says it tastes better."

"She sure seems to like you."

"Most people do."

"hmm"

Geralt halts the conversation to make his way around the inn to the stables but Alistair calls him back.

"Leave your horse. She'll prefer the stable to the cold. The path up to the river is too narrow for her. She'd get caught up in the branches or on the rocks."

Geralt turns back and Alistair adjusts the straps of his basket so they aren't digging in his shoulders. Then he turns and starts walking. Geralt follows. Most people would at this point start asking questions. Witchers seemed a point of interest or fear or both and which ever it was, it always pegged humans to talk. But not Alistair. The man was quiet. Asked no questions, tried not for small talk. Geralt had long since forgotten that some were capable of carrying on without conversation. It seemed such an alienated habit. The quiet, no nonsense type of company that only Witchers seemed to be able to pull off. Well... Here was the exception. It was... Nice. For a change. To not be pressed into painful polite conversations about things such as the weather. It was what it was, no need to discuss it with anyone. Small talk was pointless. 

"Watch your footing here. Mud has made the rocks slippery."

Alistair broke the silence merely to warn Geralt of the path up ahead. It ran on the top of a hillside filled with trees. A tumble down here would be painful and filled with no less then a few dozen splinters should he lose his footing. Geralt was grateful for the warning just as he was grateful for the continued silence. It took them perhaps an hour to climb the path all the way to the riverbank, that loomed up before them between the trees. There were patches of drowner ooze here and there and once again Geralt wondered how the hell Alistair could have gone fishing in drowner infested waters. It wasn't certain if the man had a death wish or not. 

Alistair halted at the edge of the clearing which the river ran through. He put down his basket and opened it, taking out an arrow with a thick thread attached to it and a curved bow. So... he was an archer. That explained the strength without warrior build. Geralt pointed at the little puddles of Drowner goo.

"I thought you were fishing away from the nest."

Alistair took off his boots and walked to the very edge of the water. Making Geralt uncomfortable with his reckless and careless behavior. But Alistair replied to him calmly.

"I am. The nest is half a mile down stream, that way. Near the Wetrocks."

He pointed and Geralt followed the finger, looking down the stream. His enhanced sight could see that the further down stream the river went, the more puddles of goo were by the riverbanks. Till there was hardly anything but goo near the water.

"Down stream..."

Geralt repeated. Drowners should be able to sense anything from upstream.

"It's the lilies."

Alistair replied and nodded to the water.

"They throw off their senses. Behind the lilies it's safe to fish."

There were white lilies and lily pads littered across a singular part of the calm flowing river, almost like a bridge. It seemed to work as a filter. Alistair rolled up his pants and stepped into the water, Laying the arrow on his bow and peering into the cold shallows. He released it only to pull on the cord and yank a trashing fish out of the water. He slid the fish further onto the cord and off the arrow and repeated the motion. Making a string of fish, catching one at the time. 

"How many?"

Geralt asked while gazing down at the river weaving it's way through rocky terrain all the way to the wetrocks half a mile further which could be seen from the muddy hillside up here.

"Difficult to say. Ten? Maybe more? Never seen them all at once or i'd be dead now. Seen them drag a cow under though."

Alistair paused his fishing to look at Geralt. 

"Best be careful down there. Usually they attack all at once. Every one of the same nest. But these ones don't. Can't tell you why, i wouldn't know. Like i said-"

"You're not a witcher."

Alistair showed a pearly smile again, bordering on the edge of a laugh and nodded. He showed the fish he'd caught so far. Three of them. With that rate he would have his basket filled before the sixth bell. 

"Hence the fishing."

Geralt nodded and took one more look down stream.

"If by any chance they do come up here... You should run."

He warned. Although if Alistair was fearlessly fishing in the same waters he might not be too scared of getting chased by drowners. At least it was decent to warn the man of his possible impending death. Not that Geralt would let that happen if he could, but you'd never know. Things could always go to shit. If Geralt learned one thing, -especially when travelling with Jaskier- it was that you could be prepared for possibly anything and everything and still be taken by a shit surprise. Things could always go to hell no matter how prepared you were. 

"I can take care of myself. But thanks. Good luck to you Witcher."

Geralt turned to make his way down river. Resisting the urge to tell Alistair that luck didn't have a damn thing to do with it. Not that he believed anyway.

* * *

The trek was rocky and muddy and here and there Geralt had to be careful not to slip and hit the water. At least not until he got to the center of it all. The more he pressed on, the more filthy it also became. More and more ooze was littered on the river banks, making it even more slippery and disgusting as the half frozen mud. The sludge it made had a horrible stench and Geralt just knew he would be going to smell it on his clothes for at least the next three days. 

Geralt could tell when he neared the nest. Not just the amount of ooze betrayed their location, but also the rotten stench of death and carcasses. The bank was littered with half torn and rotting corpses. Animal and human alike. Geralt could even sense a dead elf. The water had turned filthy and murky. Dead fish floating on the surface of it. Shadows writhe underneath. Geralt stepped closer. His boots now firmly planted in the icky sludge these creatures left behind. Nobody ever said this was a glamorous job. Geralt reached for an appropriate potion to help him in the coming battle and downed it in one go. The silence before the storm ended abruptly when his boot hit the edge of the water and suddenly three Drowners shot out at once to attack him. Fortunately, Geralt was prepared.

The fact that he woke these creatures gave him the advantage. Vodniks were known to be nightly creatures and thus loathed the day and were slower for it. These Drowners would be easier to defeat with the sun on his side. He killed two of the three in the first swing, taking their heads clean off. But then, things got tricky. More Drowners appeared on the bank, and though any human would not see the difference, Geralt could detect difference in color and scent. Not all of these drowners were your usual Vodniks. In fact, some of them were the more deadly variety. Mucknixers, the Heavy hitters.

"Fuck"

Geralt hissed before dodging a claw going straight for his face. He evaded them, turned and stabbed another drowner in the gut. The Mucknixers screeched and turned more active in attack to cover for the Vodniks being slain. Grouping together to strike an attack with too many claws to fend off. One raked passed Geralt's arm, one scraped his left leg. One missed his eye by a hair. And one clawed at the shoulder pad of his armor. Making new and deep cuts in the tough leather. The blood now seeping from the cuts in Geralt's arm and leg only seemed to spur them on in their violence and malice. One raked at his legs and Geralt could barely jump in time for him to keep his legs from being wiped out from under him. Still he stumbled, because of the rocky and slippery muck. Another silent fuck passing his lips as he hastily recovered and found his footing. 

This fight was getting more difficult by the second. And the strange thing was that usually Vodniks and Mucknixers didn't mix. Something must have brought them together to be sharing a nest like this. Geralt stabbed and gutted various drowners left and right and was successful in driving the numbers back, littering the bank with dead monsters. But after the eight of the supposed ten that were seen, more of them burst from the waters to join the fight. One of them, slightly bigger then the others, screeched so loud Geralt groaned and winched, bringing his ear to his shoulder because it fucking hurt. That was a cry even Alistair, half a mile up river would be able to hear. Geralt would have been more distracted if one of these fucking things was actually smart enough to go up there and take a look. Surely Alistair would be the next victim then. Geralt was also certain that with all this ruckus Alistair wouldn't get much fishing done. 

Then it happened, Geralt slipped. His boot caught on a slippery rock that made the black leather slide off and throw off his balance. Geralt landed on his back. His head grazing a stone and a Mucknixer slashed at his side, clawing it wide open. Growling in annoyance and wincing with the injury, Geralt scrambled to get away from the claws first and then get to his feet. Resulting in him rolling through the ooze mixed mud and getting covered in it. Lucky for him, it also made his armor more slippery and harder to claw at. If only these bloody drowners would stop spawning from the damn river...

* * *

Alistair had caught quite a lot of fish in the time Geralt was down there fighting the drowners. It was too far away to hear most of the commotion, yet Alistair looked up from time to time if he thought he heard something. He thought about offering his help first. But Witchers were notorious loners and preferred to work that way. Maybe this Witcher would just think he'd get in the way. Or fuck up his strategy because he might not have known how good Alistair was at defending himself. They didn't know each other. They only just met. So perhaps this was for the best. Surely a Witcher such as Geralt could take these things on his own. Alistair was not keen on starting a fight anyway. Not with these creatures. He'd fight them if he had to, but he'd rather avoid it. 

Alistair was just tucking another fish on the string when a horrible screech resonated through the rocky terrain. Roaring through the trees, bushes and over the sound of the cobbling river. Alistair looked up. Birds were flying up out of the trees, fleeing from the sound. And for it to reach all the way over here... 

Suddenly the water on the other side of the lilies started bubbling. It drew Alistair's attention and he dropped his fishing gear to focus on the bubbles. More and more gathered on the surface and Alistair wearily stalked closer to his basked. Slowly walking away from the water. Whatever it was that was moving under the surface of the river wasn't there the days before. Or maybe it was and it toyed with Alistair by letting him fish with the patch of lilies between them that gave him a false sense of protection. Or maybe it just took three days to get to the lily patch that was filtering their sense of humans stepping into the stream. Maybe this one came to destroy it. 

However as Alistair almost reached his pack, the surface broke open and a hideous clawed monster screeched as it clawed the air while rising. 

"Not a Drowner!"

Alistair realized it out loud and with horror. That's why the nest was so organized! They had a fucking Water Hag for a leader! She hissed and then with lightning speed started moving down stream towards the place Geralt went. He'd be completely taken by surprise.

"Shit!"

Alistair dropped everything and started running after the water hag. Not even thinking. He tried to make his way over the banks fast enough to keep up with her, but she was too quick in the water. Much faster then he was on land. A rock caught his foot and he slipped, falling down in the mud.

"FUCK!"

He cursed and looked up, seeing the water hag disappearing rapidly towards the fight. He had to do something. Warn Geralt at least. But he couldn't keep up. He needed speed. There was only one thing he could do now. Alistair sat up and ripped off his boots and his blue lily crest and shoved the crest in his pony tail, then he got up and started running again. Ripping off his shirt and under shirt. Hopefully he was fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ps. You may or may not have guessed it, but Geralt already met Jaskier. This is after they met for the first time and they parted ways a short while ago, Jaskier's song isn't quite famous yet, but it's getting there. We'll be seeing him around in chapter 3.


	2. White Horse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt is saved by a white horse, Alistair is gone and the towns folk are not happy. (when are they ever) Unexpected occurrences follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry if Geralt or any of the characters really are coming off as a bit ooc. I'm trying my best. (although let's face it. Geralt is pretty easy with all his 'hmm' s and 'fuck' s. xD)

Geralt struggled to fight back the group of drowners. It wasn't that they were strong, it was just that there were so many of them. Geralt had stopped counting after the fifteenth Vodnik raised from the waters. Not to mention the mix of Mucknixers and Vodniks together, which was more challenging then your usual nest of Drowners. These moved to attack in small clusters rather then all at once. Which was both helpful and not at all. Geralt had lost grip on his sword at least twice in the past fifteen minutes and now that he was slippery from the sludge on the ground as well, grounding his footwork was even more challenging. The screech one of them let out still had his ears ringing and his left felt like there was a bit of a wet spot trailing from it. Geralt would not be surprised if he was bleeding. 

Then from the left, upriver came a wave, moving too fast to be anything ordinary. It was pushed forward fast by some form of creature. Claws started to rise from the white water and suddenly this whole nest issue seemed to make a lot of sense. Not that it helped in the fight. Geralt was not given a chance to prepare for possible impact. He was still fighting drowners, who had lured him further to the shallows. He stepped in ankle deep water, which caused for more grip in his footwork, but also gave the drowners an advantage. That's when a larger, uglier creature doomed up behind him. Ready to swat at him with incredible sharp talons. The water hag rumbled a displeased war cry and was about to bring her arm down on Geralt when a loud Neighing filled the bank and a white horse came storming up to them, trampling the hag in the face with it's front hooves only to turn about and kick it in the stomach with it's hind legs.

It gave Geralt time to strike in a circle to get the drowners off him and turn around to stab the water hag in the chest. Without the distraction his entire back would probably have been ripped open like a plowed cornfield. Poison seeping in like rain on thirsty dry soil. The horse ran up to the remaining drowners Geralt had just cut down and started trampling one that still moved. Sickening crunches resonated under the hooves and even though Geralt was now occupied with the Water Hag, he could hear the damage being done. A few more stabs into the Water hag made her keel over, exposing the neck for Geralt to swing at. It send her head rolling. Geralt turned just in time to see a Drowner being launched towards him and he held out his sword for it to fall on while he looked at the white horse that kicked the creature away. Geralt disposed of the last of them, poking into the water with his sword to be sure there weren't any more of them. 

The end result was a mix of a little more then twenty monster corpses littering the banks and shallows of the river, excluding the large water hag that also now laid still, polluting the shallows of the already murky waters. 

"That seemed to be all of them."

Geralt's gruff voice spoke. The horse neighed softly and nodded it's head as if to agree with him. Geralt walked a bit closer to pet it's soft nose.

"Where did you come from huh?"

Geralt asked. The horse bristled and scraped at the stones with his hooves. It appeared to be a stallion. 

"What you did... was very brave. Thanks."

Geralt patted the white stallion on it's neck. It pushed against Geralt's body with a whinny sound, the same exact sound Roach made when she was concerned for him in her own way. Geralt looked down at his slashed body.

"I'm fine. How did you get up here though? Alistair said the path was too narrow for-"

Geralt stopped. Tension seeping into his shoulders. The ice cold bucket of water that was his realization hit him instantly. The Water Hag... It came from up river. Alistair was fishing up river. 

"Fuck!"

Geralt left the horse and started wrestling his way back up the river. All the mud and goo wasn't helping and he couldn't reach the spot fast enough. But even before he got there, he already froze with squared up shoulders an a nauseating tension in his gut. A patch of brown cloth laid there, and next to it a blue sash with the lily crest he'd seen Alistair wear. Geralt strode forward in two quick paces and picked up the sash. He looked up and around. Perhaps there was still some of him left, or if he got really lucky, he was injured but not dead.

"Alistair!"

Geralt grunted loudly. Then he called. Then he raised his voice a bit more. But each time he called out to Alistair, there was no response. 

"fucking Water Hag"

Geralt sighed and took the lily crest. He'd give it to the townspeople. They knew the man better then he did. Although he dreaded telling them about Alistair's demise. He seemed to be loved despite being a stranger. The witcher stalked further up the river, finding the lily patch gone, some torn pads were all that remained of the lilies that had grown there. The bow, arrow and string with plenty fish on it were still by the water. And the basket next to that. 

The witcher took the fish, and the basket. Yet it seemed heavier then empty and filled with something. Geralt opened the basket to find a black violin. Strange. He'd seen fiddles before, but never one black as night. He closed the basket again, deciding not to throw the fish in with the violin. It's not that he was sentimental towards a man he didn't know, but he wouldn't want anyone to bury his swords in fish either, so keeping the violin clean was at least some proper respect towards a dead man. 

* * *

The trek down was long. Longer then the hour they'd spend climbing it this morning. It took almost two hours with Geralt's injuries and the stuff he was carrying down from the river. The sky colored in reds, pinks and oranges by the time he reached the tavern and inn. Inside the patrons were just getting started on a good night like the last one. The sound of their voices still contained and proper compared to the rural drunk slurring he heard upon arrival last night. Bracing for what might come next, Geralt entered the tavern. 

Exectly like he'd expect, all went quiet upon seeing his disheveled and bloodied appearance. Some gasped, other shook their heads and some blinked in shock thinking they weren't seeing it right. Geralt was greeted by Margareth who took one look at him and dared to quietly ask what happened.

"What happened? You look horrible."

Horrible was by far not the correct word, but for lack of a better one, Geralt replied.

"The nest is gone. You should be able to return to fishing within the week. Give the water time to clear." 

Margareth was only listening with half an ear. She looked passed him, expecting to see Alistair appear, but he wasn't going to show. While some villagers sounded relieved and murmured, Margareth's face fell as she saw the basket and the crest in the witcher's hands.

"What about Alistair? Where is he?"

Geralt set the basked down, laid the fish on the counter and reached for the crest.

"He's not coming."

Margareth's eyes filled with tears and she swatted an arm at him. Slapping him in the face hard enough for it to sting. Geralt said nothing.

"You monster! Everything was fine before you came! The nest was a problem yes, but Alistair was helping! He'd found a way to make it work. He saved us before you ever set foot in this place! You killed him! You and that monster killing business of yours! How dare you?!"

More patrons began shouting profanities at the Witcher and hurled bits of food at him. All clearly very fond of the man they would now miss. 

"Hasn't your kind done enough Witcher?! Get out of Touramesh! You're not welcome here!"

The barkeep said as he took the crying Margareth in his arms. 

Geralt had expected this kind of a reaction. And as much as it stung like the slap he received, he couldn't blame them for being angry. He did fail to protect Alistair, but then again neither of them had counted on a damn Water Hag. And because of the loss of their previous hero, the townsfolk couldn't be happy for the solution to their problems. Even though the nest was gone, all they did was shout at him.

"Go away!"

"Monster!"

"We don't want your kind here!"

He reached for the lily crest to silently give it to Margareth, but she turned away from his outstretched hand and refused to take it. 

"Murderer!"

"Butcher!"

"This isn't Blaviken you brute!"

It stung. Deeply so. Not that Geralt wasn't used to it, but it definitely hurt to be seen as the monster they all thought he was. He didn't want to be seen as such. Yet no matter what he did he always ended up getting rocks thrown at him and people shouting and sneering wanting nothing to do with him. He was about to turn on his heel and leave when suddenly a voice called all to silence.

"THAT'S ENOUGH."

Silence fell instantly. Not even the chairs dared to creak after the thundering voice called the tavern to order. Geralt whirled around to see a disheveled and out of breath man with long hair standing there. Alistair looked flushed and his clothes were torn in some places. He had his boots in hand and his feet and hands were covered in mud and slime. His hair was bunched up into knots and it looked more like straw then it did normal hair, his Silver eyes were stormy and bright enough to see the flickering candles reflected in them. For a moment, Geralt stood frozen.

Alistair looked around and dropped his boots on the floor in protest. Margareth hastily wiped her face, furiously scrubbing away the tears. But Alistair paid no attention to her.

"To think that this is the very village i set foot in four days ago disgusts me. You all should be relieved you can make your own living again. But what thanks does a man get for giving you back your livelihood? You shun him, call him murderer and send him on his way with nothing to show for his actions."

Alistair walked further into the inn. The entire space was so quiet you could hear a straw drop.

"Geralt of Rivia gave you back your river. I could not do it, so i gave you fish instead. I cared for you until someone came along who was able to let you care for yourselves again. Tended your needs until your lives would resume to normal. The witcher saved all of you, and yet you'd turn against him for the life of one stranger who'd done you a service before? His service is far greater then mine. You should be ashamed of yourselves."

Almost every head in the Tavern lowered in guilt. They all stared at the floor with nothing to say to the man they presumed dead. Geralt wasn't quite sure what to do or how to react. It was one thing that this man stood to defend him. Very little people would. The bard would probably have the time of his life right now. No doubt Jaskier would write a lengthy ballad about this encounter if he was here. But it was another thing entirely to see him standing there while every evidence previously found pointed toward an untimely death. 

"The least you could do is thank the man who gave you your lives back by risking his. As it turns out, Drowners were not the only problem. We were taken by surprise by a Water Hag. And though he was injured, the Witcher killed it. Now you are safe, and as soon as the river clears up you will be able to catch fish again. Plenty of it. So be grateful."

Alistair turned around, his stormy eyes landing on Geralt.

"And you Witcher. You left me on the riverbank! You're lucky i wasn't severely harmed or these people would have reason to chase you out of town."

"You were gone." 

Geralt finally found his voice. But it wasn't as low and intimidating as it had been earlier that day. There was a hint of disbelief and confusion.

"You didn't look."

"I-... Apologize"

Geralt found discomfort in the fact that there was still a deafening silence hanging in the tavern and all eyes were pointed at them. Alistair's stormy silver eyes lifted into something lighter as his face contorted into a smile. He wove it off physically by mowing a hand in the air.

"pff. Buy me a pitcher of Ale and we'll call it even. Barkeep! Food and Drink please."

Relief seemed to flow through the room like a soft breeze. People started speaking to one another again, though softly. The situation had defused rapidly. Almost too fast for it to be comfortable. Geralt remained on edge. But when Alistair walked to his table, the witcher did follow. Margareth came after him, tears still brimming her eyes, but of joy now. 

"Alistair, i'm so glad you're alright."

The man looked at her and then at the mess he left with his boots, then he looked at his hands and feet.

"Margareth i'm happy too, but i'm also quite sorry for the mess i made. Could i have a bowl of water to wash my hands and feet at least?"

She wove it off and immediately also offered to draw him a bath, free of charge. Alistair gave her a look and gestures with his eyes to the Witcher. Margareth's face fell but then she recovered and offered to draw Geralt a bath as well. She rushed away and came back with a bowl and a cloth. Alistair cleaned his hands and feet while the barkeep put food and ale on the table and took away the bowl when he was done. The man sighed and looked at Geralt's bloody appearance. The gash on his arm was the most notable. 

"You should get that looked at."

Alistair pointed towards the wound and Geralt hummed but did not reply. His head was still filled with questions. 

"How did you get away from the Water Hag?"

It appeared a pressing question he couldn't keep to himself and Alistair looked up from his plate.

"She appeared right after this terrible screech. Then she went straight for you. I tried to warn you but she was faster then i was."

"Doesn't explain where you went"

Alistair smiled but didn't reply. The answer to the question remained vague. As the man wasn't willing to part with more information on what exactly happened. Geralt felt his discomfort simmer. It wasn't just the oddity of the situation, but the fact that, beside the Bard, no one had ever stood up for him like that. And to be fair Jaskier wasn't exactly subtle about it either. But he did it by writing songs and singing them to the public, inaccurate as they may be. This was quite different.

"I thought you'd side with the townsfolk. Considering i left you on the riverbank."

Geralt muttered lowly as he prodded his food. After a moment he decided not to waste a good meal and eat. Alistair took a moment to reply but then he brushed it off.

"That could have happened to anyone. Even a Witcher. You just came out of a rough fight. I couldn't be mad for that. Besides, now we can both move on."

Geralt arched a brow. 

"You're leaving?"

Alistair shrugged as he picked at a piece of bread.

"These people can rebuild. They no longer need me. I'd like to go somewhere i can do some good."

He held out his hand and Geralt frowned.

"eh.."

"You have something of mine."

Geralt instantly remembered the blue lily crest an placed it into Alistair's hand. A look of relief seemed to spread on his features. 

"I almost thought i lost it. It's the only thing i have left from home."

Alistair turned the crest in his fingers. It almost seemed to come to life in his hands. But looking again would have made you think it was a trick of the mind. After all it was a crest, not a real flower. 

* * *

When after eating dinner Geralt retreated to his room to take a bath, there was a soft knock on the door. Geralt replied with a grunt while he picked at his armor. Alistair walked in, took one look at him and silently walked up to help unclasp his armor. Geralt tossed him a suspicious glare but Alistair ignored it. Taking his armor and a wet rag he seated himself on the bed and started to clean off the dirt, grime and muck from the black leather. Geralt thought it must have been a thank you for something. Though usually people thanked him in different ways, more vocally, sexually, or not at all. Alistair... was a strange one. Even weirder then that stupid Bard Geralt kept thinking about. 

Geralt chose to ignore it, he walked to the bath, nothing separated it from the view of the bed. It was only one room after all. Yet he stripped and stepped into the hot water to soak. Alistair had his eyes on the armor, but he could hear the water ripple as the Witcher stepped in. It was quiet. Different. Geralt was aware of Alistair's presence, but despite recent events did not feel threatened by it. Nor did the silence make him uncomfortable. Alistair cleaned the armor until there wasn't a speck of dirt, blood or other filthy things left on it. Then he fingered the gashes torn in the black leather. Trying to determine how bad they were. 

"There's needle and thread in my pack"

Geralt hummed with eyes closed even before Alistair could ask. Normally he wouldn't let strangers even go near his stuff but he could hear Alistair rummaging around in his pack and it did nothing to him. The Witcher grumbled inwardly. He was going soft. Either that or Alistair was a mage and Geralt was under some sort of enchantment. It would explain the hair and the eyes. After a moment the rustling stopped and Alistair had settled back on the bed, mending Geralt's armor.

"You still owe me a pitcher of ale."

Alistair broke the silence with a chuckle. Geralt huffed through his nose with the beginning of a snort. Alistair continued while working on the leather armor.

"I was thinking, we could head over to the next town together. There we could inform for possibilities. You go after contracts, i go after needs. We part ways from there."

"hmm"

Was all that Geralt answered. The idea was not bad. He didn't resent it as much as he thought he would. Besides Alistair was... different. Like a puzzle. Nothing would make sense until all the pieces would fall into place. Alistair seemed done with the armor because he approached and pulled up a stool next to the bath.

"Let me see your arm."

Geralt opened his eyes to look at the man. He was still in the same disheveled appearance as he was when he came in after the fight. 

"Shouldn't you get your own bath?"

Geralt rumbled.

"Later."

Alistair held out a hand expectantly and without really knowing why, Geralt reluctantly laid his injured arm in the man's grip. Alistair took a clean cloth and patiently worked away the dried blood around the gash. 

"You'll need stitching."

Geralt nodded his head towards his pack. A moment later, Alistair sat beside him with needle and thread, expertly sewing the wound shut. Geralt barely responded. He was tired and it didn't hurt bad enough to flinch. When Alistair was done Geralt took a look at the result. It was neat, clean, small stitches. It would probably scar a lot less then all the other wounds he had to treat himself. 

"Leg"

Alistair ordered. Geralt shifted. Rising up to sit on the edge of the tub. Not bothered by his own nakedness. Alistair seemed to ignore the image completely and focused solely on the wound. Geralt carefully breathed in, trying to get a scent from him without alarming the other he seemed to be sniffing around, but Alistair was not hiding a peaked interest. In fact Geralt's naked image didn't seem to effect him much in general. He couldn't pick up any sexual interest, no fear and not even some apparent curiosity. Alistair seemed focused solely on sewing up the wound on his leg. After stitching up that wound too, Alistair let Geralt soak in the tub while he cleaned up the things he used. 

Geralt inspected the work Alistair had done on him. The leg too was stitched neatly and with small stitches. A work far more professional then when Geralt did it himself. It looked like Alistair had done this many times before. There was no other explanation to a skill that neat. 

"Nice work"

He rumbled. The man looked up from cleaning his hands on a cloth.

"The stitches"

Geralt confirmed when Alistair's silver eyes left a question hanging in the air.

"oh... You're welcome."

His mind seemed absent. Geralt tilted his head. Once again there was that faint scent of lilies and it was coming from Alistair. Between the dirt clinging to him and the smell of drowner ooze, Alistair still carried the same scent he had when Geralt first saw him. Something that reminded him of spring rain, lilies and a calm pond on a summer's day. And between that, a somewhat sharper scent, like wood being decorated with hot iron tools. The burning of the wood had a certain scent, and that scent was layered onto Alistair's skin with the other scents Geralt could pick up. 

The man stood and gazed at the witcher as though he was trying to see if he forgot anything. Then he nodded to himself. 

"I should go and take that bath now. You'll be alright. Will i see you in the morning?"

"hmm"

Geralt responded with a nod. Alistair left the room to take care of his own disheveled appearance, but the fragrant of lilies remained. After all that happened today, Geralt had concluded one thing: Whatever Alistair was, Mage or... something else... He wasn't quite human. 


	3. Jaskier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair and Geralt part ways only for him to have to put up with Jaskier's antics again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I made a bit of an oopsy (fanart) with a dress up game from Doll Divine. I think it was called Fantasy Couple? Anyway it was like 5 AM and i hadn't gotten any sleep so i blame my insomnia for coming up with this. It's Geralt and Jaskier. I think they turned out well for a dress up game. Credit to the artist of the game and the site itself. Go check it out. It's more fun then you'd think. (When you're sleep deprived or drunk that is... o.o)

* * *

"Don't you have a horse?"

Geralt muttered while he put Roach into motion. Next to him Alistair started up his pace with his black fiddle placed in a satchel over his shoulder and his bow strapped to his back with the pouch of arrows hanging from his belt. 

"I prefer going on foot. Don't worry about it, i can keep up."

Geralt said nothing, but his look said _I'm sure you can._ At least this felt somewhat familiar. But compared to Jaskier's company, this was perhaps a bit more pleasant. Alistair walked beside Roach without complaining or playing his fiddle like the bard would play his lute. At this point Geralt wasn't sure which one he preferred. Even as annoying as Jaskier was for his constant talking, yapping and complaining, his singing and his poor attempts at poetry, the sound once you'd get used to it, became nothing more then background noise to fill the air when travelling. The silence Alistair now offered was appreciated yet felt foreign compared to the loudness of his other company.

Only sometimes did that soft voice fill the air. And usually it was a short conversation, not with the witcher, but with Roach. If she snorted, Alistair would reply with a chuckle. If she Neighed, the man would agree with whatever she'd try to tell him. If she bristled he scowled and told her a lady shouldn't say such vulgar things. In the end it was quite amusing to listen to the two go back and forth. Although Geralt felt somewhat cheated. Roach was never this vocal or friendly with anyone. Even towards Jaskier she needed time to warm up. 

This seemed a continued pattern until they got to the next village where Geralt found a contract for a small group of three starved wargs. Probably left behind by their pack. The battle was quick and the coin even quicker, and this time, there were people humming a familiar tune. Greeting him with a better reception then all the villages before. It seemed in the time it took them to travel to this village, Jaskier's song had grown in popularity. Still, this town didn't have much to offer. Geralt could have bought Alistair that pitcher of ale he owed him. He really didn't know why he did not. But instead he announced to the man he was going to the next village. And so Alistair traveled with him to the next village. And the next.

By the turn of the second week, Geralt had gotten used to the company. He let Alistair take out his stitches. (this time Geralt did scent a flare of want coming from Alistair, but the man refused to act on it or acknowledge it in himself) And whenever they spoke on a rare occasion, he got to know the man a little better. Alistair was an orphan, no parents to speak of. Lived his youth in Dalmar until he felt he should be doing more with his life and started looking for people in need. He had helped several villages survive by boosting their market like Touramesh, or help cultivate their farms. Doing just enough to help them out of their needs and then moved on. 

When Geralt mentioned the tearful goodbye Margareth had given him, mentioning he could tell she hoped Alistair would stay, The man mentioned this happening more often. But he never connected with the villagers. This was so he wouldn't have to stay. He claimed being settled in one place was not for him. The odd thing was that despite carrying a fiddle, Alistair never played it. Not a single time. Not even as a patron in one of the taverns saw the instrument and begged him to play in exchange for free ale and food. No matter what the patrons bribed with, Alistair had declined, though politely, and refused to play. Geralt didn't ask why. He must have had some reason. 

In the next three weeks Gerarlt took on five more contracts and each time Alistair helped him clean up after battle. Even when the Witcher told him there was no need. Alistair claimed that 'need' was a relative term and that there was a need. It's what he did. He helped people with various needs. It seemed to be his drive. And so Geralt let him. A soft hint of want hung scented in the air each time Alistair was around when Geralt bathed and needed to tend to his wounds, but Geralt didn't mention it, and Alistair seemed to suppress it. For whatever reason he didn't want to act on it. Maybe he felt ashamed, although Geralt couldn't detect any shame or fear of any kind. Alistair simply let him be. The thing he did notice, was that Alistair's scent seemed to increase when they were near water. As if it strengthened his scent and his person to be so close to any form or body of water. Now, it seemed almost strange to have a bath and not smell a faint fragrance of water lilies. 

* * *

The day came that all of this changed. It was sunny out, not quite warm yet but as winter was almost over, the biting cold had subsided for mild frost. They just arrived in a village and while Roach calmly strode forward into the town, Alistair stopped. Geralt halted Roach and turned to look at the man. Alistair had his silver eyes closed, head slightly tilted as if he was listening to something. Geralt looked up, trying to catch whatever Alistair was listening to. There was no sound, but there was a sense. A sense of something that brought out fear and grief in these people. The town reeked of it. Alistair quietly started walking again and they arrived at the tavern together. Geralt let Alistair go in first while he tied Roach and followed into the Tavern. It was quiet, murmuring the only level of speech that seemed to pass for acceptable and the mood was damp to say the least. 

The barkeep eyed the strange company coming in but seemed to tired to put up either a good word and a smile or a sneer and a speech about how witchers weren't welcome here. Because of Alistair's appearance sometimes he was mistaken for a mage, once even a witcher, but he always denied both. 

"If ya came to drown your sorrows you've come to the wrong place."

The man muttered while filling up a stein with ale for a patron at the bar.

"What happened here?"

Alistair looked around and approached the barman while he asked. 

"Winter and sickness good Sir. Winter and Sickness."

Alistair shared a look with Geralt who nodded and stalked over to a table in the corner. His favorite spot. Alistair followed with two ales after a moment of speaking with the barkeep. Alistair was quiet. He was so more often, but never this quiet. On the road he didn't talk much, but in a tavern or in an inn he was a bit more loose with his tongue, speaking to the witcher freely. Now he was silent however. He seemed sunken into the bottom of his ale as his fingers caressed the stein but he did not drink from it. Geralt had come to recognize certain signs in softer detail whenever Alistair found a need he could fulfill. It seemed to have increased tenfold this time. 

"No contracts"

Geralt muttered, mouth half hidden in his cup. Alistair hummed but still seemed too far sunken into thought. 

"Alistair?"

The name seemed to pull the man back a little as the blonde looked up at him with questioning silver eyes.

"hmm?"

Geralt would have snorted for the reversed roles were it not that Alistair's behavior rose something of discomfort in him. Like a pending threat of bad news looming over his head. Geralt gave him a searching look and Alistair put his cup down, sliding it over to Geralt. The Witched looked at it questioning the motive, but Alistair shook his head quietly. So Geralt drank the second ale too. He could sense unease in these people. Worry and exhaustion. Alistair started to mumble slowly and softly. So low only Geralt seemed to be able to hear what he said.

"In the far corner. The man lost his wife, now he prepares to bury his two children. At the bar, the woman who buried her sister will bury two more without help. The man by the door feels death closing in on him. He's got nothing left, his farm is in ruins. The man by the fire can't seem to get warm. The barkeep knows his wife has caught the illness. He worries he will bury her before the come of spring."

Alistair jolted up from his trance and inhaled sharply. His silver eyes flickered for a moment. Geralt had never seen them do that and for a moment the unease grips at him hard enough to slide a hand to his sword, waiting, calculating. But then Alistairs words made him drop his hand. 

"They're all dying."

Alistair said softly. But loud enough for the Tavern to hear. Silence fell as all eyes turn to look at them. Alistair turned around on his chair and gazed at the barman.

"Is there no doctor here? No mage?"

The man shook his head. 

"We're a small town. Too small. Just a speck on the map of the continent. Too far up North for anyone to come and help."

Alistair looked down at the floor, letting the words settle in his mind. Geralt knew that there was nothing more a Witcher could do for these people. Staying would bring more trouble. The only sensible thing to do was to leave. And he was ready to. Outside, the reality of that dreaded bad news finally descended upon him. As he untied Roach, Alistair walked up to him. 

"I'm staying."

It was nothing Geralt didn't expect. Yet still the news seems wrapped in a sour taste. To actually think he would mourn the loss of company is beyond him. But Geralt felt a hint of something in his gut. He couldn't quite make out what it was. Disappointment? Bitterness? Regret? Whatever it was, it was too soft and too vague to give it a name. Were he human it would have felt differently, sharper. Bad enough to name the emotion attached to it. But all he had now was a nameless feeling that told him he disliked but would respect Alistair's wish. They were going separate ways. 

"I thought you might."

The words were slightly bitter. They hadn't known each other for long, but Alistair was as insistent on growing into acceptable company as the fucking Bard. To lose that company was both a relief and a regret at the same time. And it confused the Witcher. He had never been very good with feelings, let alone words for it. But people who said he didn't feel anything were wrong. Otherwise how could he explain the twisting feeling in his gut that fought against him accepting this?

"I'm sure we'll meet again Geralt of Rivia."

Alistair's voice remained soft. As if he took care his tone would not inflict more bitterness in their goodbye. Geralt nodded. He got on Roach and took one last look down at the man he was leaving behind. Geralt didn't have many friends. And he wouldn't be quick to call someone just that, But Alistair was on the road to becoming one. Leaving him behind did not bring the Witcher any joy. Alistair smiled up at him. A smile that didn't quite reach his eyes like it would on any other occasion.

"Good luck Witcher. Don't forget, you still owe me a pitcher of ale."

Geralt actually showed a hint of a genuine smile before he rode off. Leaving the village and Alistair behind. 

* * *

A few weeks later nearly every town the Witcher traveled through seemed to be humming the same song. No doubt Jaskier was a growing success with the public. At least it seemed to make life a little bit easier for Geralt, who finally didn't have to wait for rocks to come sailing at his head in every town he passed through. The word of a cockatrice plaguing these parts drew Geralt to the Tavern where people talk and he could possibly find the man who could give him the contract to kill the beast. Before he even set foot in the tavern he heard the strumming of a lute and caught a particular familiar scent rising above the rest.

Geralt was almost inclined to turn around but the current status of his purse didn't really allow it. Somehow coin was easier to come by when travelling with Alistair. Alone this seemed not to be the case. So Geralt braced for something he couldn't even name and he ducked inside. 

~ _Toss a coin to your witcher, oh valley of plenty_ ~

It was the same song. The same fucking song. It had been following Geralt everywhere. It made him both more welcome and more feared and perhaps a tad more respected. Still, Geralt didn't seek the attention it gave. To have women in every brothel sing this to him in bed had become a bit of a nuisance. The Bard stood strumming his lute with his back towards the witcher. People sang along, tossed coins or drunkily cheered, clapping and asking for an encore when he ended the song. 

"To the Witcher!"

One man bellowed and lifted his tankard in Gerald's direction, sloshing half the content over the rim. Geralt ignored the stares and found a vacant table when some men sitting at it cheered and gestured to the table and then made space for him while they seated themselves elsewhere. Well... That at least was new. In the mean time, the Bard had turned around and though surprise had skidded across Jaskier's pretty blue eyes a smile to wide for his features was brought forward as he greeted the witcher.

"Geralt!"

He gathered the coin he made that night and skipped over quickly, setting his lute against the wall next to the table. He called out to the Barman.

"Ale! my good Sir. For me and my friend."

Geralt almost snorted. An amused look upon his face that any drunkard would have confused for a smirk.

"Still not your friend Jaskier"

The Bard ignored him as he was far too excited to see him again.

"So how is Geralt of Rivia, the mighty Witcher faring these days? Has the White Wolf had any more great adventures of devils and monsters and elves and hard battle?"

Geralt sat there for a moment, staring in those blue eyes. He would rather be stoned in every damn village on the map of the continent then admit a part of him had actually missed the bard in some ways. 

"Devils still don't exist."

He replied. Already more vocally towards Jaskier then he was to any stranger or any person. Jaskier waved it off.

"pff. A minor detail. That's what i need though! Have you heard them? They adore me. Of course i'm someone to be adored, i mean look at me. But look at you! You haven't changed a bit. Oh you must tell me of your recent adventures. My song is doing so well i thought of composing another few of your battles, they are the greatest successes."

The ale was brought and Geralt took one to start drinking without sharing anything of interest to Jaskier. 

"There's been talk of a village up North. Quaint little fisherman's town that was miraculously rid of their monsters. That wouldn't happen to be your work would it? You must tell me! How many were there?"

Geralt thought back on the village. In Touramesh he fist met Alistair. The man had surprised him and stubbornly befriended him even though Geralt also wouldn't call him a friend. They both had oddities yet it seemed the Bard's laid more open. Alistair had... secrets. Geralt didn't pry. He never did. But the comparison was most interesting. Both Jaskier and Alistair shared similarities, and yet they were different as day and night.

"Geralt, have you been listening?"

The Witcher looked up. Jaskier stared at him expectantly while visibly had all his hopes dashed when Geralt replied.

"What?"

Jaskier looked insulted with his mouth open like a gaping fish.

"The tale of the White horse! Geralt. Everyone talks about it. This village a few towns over was said to be plagued by disease. A white horse appeared, like a phantom one morning. It ran through the town and disappeared, since then people have been healing. You're clearly not keeping up with the rumors. Luckily you have me and we can travel together again! Oh but of course first we have to rid this town of this one's monster, but can we go look Geralt?.. Geralt?"

Geralt stared at his cup. A white horse? Miracles? Strange. It was a white horse that saved him from being clawed at by the Water Hag. Then it disappeared. But that was a few months ago. It couldn't be the same horse. 

"It's a cockatrice"

Geralt grumbled. Jaskier looked at him with wide eyes.

"Beg your pardon?"

"The monster of this town. It's a cockatrice. Fucking ugly thing."

Jaskier grinned and raised his hands. 

"Marvelous, let's go kill the thing and move on to the south to the mystery of the white horse! Of course you'll be doing the killing. And i'll write a song about it. What do you say?"

"hmm"

Geralt was only just back in Jaskier's company and already he felt like he'd had enough of the Bard. Perhaps being away from him for a longer time had made him grow accustomed to a man who did know when to talk and when to be silent. He'd have to get used to Jaskier's constant vocalism again. 

"I'm so excited! I wonder what it could be. Maybe a unicorn! But they said horse and no one has said a thing about a horn. Ooh, maybe a Kelpie!"

Geralt grunted and shook his head at both suggestions.

"Kelpie drown people, not heal them. And unicorns are fucking uptight creatures who are easily insulted. No way they'd bother healing a town unless the villagers were licking shit form their hooves in worship."

Jaskier's eyes widened and he scrambled to get a quill and a piece of parchment to write down this newfound inspiration. Geralt rolled his eyes but he had already said too much. There was not a thing in the world that was going to keep Jaskier from asking more questions now. Or that would stop him from following when Geralt would go fuck up that cockatrice. Like a leech the Bard attached himself to Geralt and he wouldn't be able to get rid of Jaskier again until the Bard had made a few more songs out of Geralt's monster encounters. He might as well set the bard to work instantly so it would take less time for him to be sated and leave again. 

"It was me."

Jaskier looked up with questions in his eyes.

"What was you?"

Geralt took a breath and grunted out the short version of the story, already regretting his decision. He left out the part about Alistair though.

"The Fisherman's town. Nest of Drowners, of two varieties. Big fucking Water Hag."

Jaskier's eyes lit up like two sapphires. Twinkling with this new tale of heroics as he would call it. To Geralt it was just a job.

"Big battle i assume? Did you save the village? How many were there?"

Geralt huffed and took another swig from his ale. 

"Many. Got snatched by the arm. It left a mark."

Jaskier seemed to be over joyed with the new tale and the evidence of it's truth to boot. 

"Marvelous. Well it needs some work and we can adapt under creative differences, i mean there must have been a lot for you to get hurt like that. 40? 50 maybe. But behold the Witcher has come out victorious once more."

"Twenty two."

"Fifty it is. What word would rhyme with fifty?"

"Jaskier..."

The bard kept rattling on about his new inspiration with this tale and started composing lyrics for a new ballad on the spot. Geralt had long since given up trying to keep the bard from 'adapting' the truth to something that would be more crowd pleasing. Apparently people weren't interested in the truth. Only in good stories. No matter, at least Geralt would still remember how it really happened. 

* * *

The cockatrice was a small one. Not really worth mentioning according to Jaskier, who was unhelpful as ever. Even though it wasn't impressive enough for a song, Geralt still had a few injuries from the sharp beak that he needed tending. The bard seemed good for a bath though. Geralt had not the coin to fill one up, but Jaskier considered it payment for another one of Geralt's fascinating stories. Never one to turn down something free, Geralt had reluctantly grumbled about the kikimora before Blaviken, and a nest of vampires. Pointing Jaskier to the scars that matched the tales. The bard spun more songs in a week then he had in months and very quickly started singing them in the taverns they passed on their travels. It took exactly three days to get used to his noise and complaints again. And another three for Geralt to come to recognize the road they were travelling as one he had been on before. When he was going the other way. 

Jaskier was still terrible company. And yet falling back into this rhythm with him on Roach, their slow paced stepping next to the bard who talked and talked and often strummed his lute, gave Geralt a sense of ease. Something oddly and irritatingly familiar that seemed to make him feel much better then travelling alone. On the road there wasn't much work for Geralt to go around, and so Jaskier sang his songs and provided for him whatever he could. (which was always barely enough and with piss poor quality because the Bard had a habit of spending too much on too little nonsense) It seemed though that their conditions were improving. The bard was an ever growing success. And each new story Geralt told him about his work was spun in a catchy song that made the patrons clap, gasp and laugh and cheer while tossing coins at their witcher. (because yes that song was sadly a folk favorite and Geralt feared he would never ever get rid of it again. Jaskier, damn the bard, sang it as an encore in nearly every town where they whistled and called him back to sing more.) Sometimes the same song would be sung thrice on an evening and all Geralt could do to get it out of his head was to go over to the brothel and fill his ears with women's sweet moans instead. 

They spend the better half of two months on the road like that. Increasing popularity while travelling around the village that Jaskier had mentioned had the white horse, but never quite reaching it. Because either Jaskier was invited to play in another town or by some miracle Geralt was hired to kill a monster. Until finally after another two weeks they seemed to have arrived at the village people were gossiping about in every corner of the continent. Geralt barely recognized the village. But it seemed to be the same as he left Alistair in before. Only now the town was lively, The farms were healthily active. Crops growing well and people chatting in the street to one another without the stench of fear lingering in every alley. Whatever disease may had been spread here had long since been gone. Spring was almost over, The days were getting warmer and everything seemed to have more color then when he left it mid winter. This could only be the work of one man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geralt can not yet connect the dots. Even though i'm guessing some of you can. ;) like it so far? I hope Jaskier's character is enough Jaskier for your taste. I see others in the fandom write him so well and i'm kind of worried i don't do him justice. I can only hope for (and do) the best.


	4. tell me a tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Jaskier meet up with Alistair. Jaskier is quite taken with Alistair. The bard prods Alistair for more information on the Touramesh tale.

The sweet scent of growing crops filled the area around the village. Carrying all the way into the streets. Roach snorted, Hungry for a treat and Geralt promised to get her a big juicy apple. Jaskier looked around in wonder. Finding it very hard to believe that this town once laid in the ruins of sickness and poverty. 

"Are we actually in the right place Geralt? Doesn't look like the rumors were true."

Jaskier absentmindedly plucked at the strings of his Lute while he walked next to Roach as he looked at the picture perfect surroundings. It could be an illusion for all they knew. 

"If it's who i think it is that did this, then they are partly true. He worked wonders before."

Geralt mumbled looking around for a familiar face. He had to be here somewhere. Because the scent that drifted towards the witcher on the soft breeze was definitely that of water lilies and calm streaming waters, grass after rain and singed wood. 

"He?"

Jaskier frowned. He stood by Roach as Geralt dismounted and tied her to a post of the inn. He went inside with the bard behind him. The innkeeper looked up as the witcher came in. Unlike previous times and towns where his appearance would be frowned upon, the man gave a firm nod as a greeting.

"Witcher. What can i do for you this fine day?"

Geralt turned to look at Jaskier and then back at the innkeeper.

"Two rooms for the night with baths drawn, stable and food for my horse and you can tell me where to find Alistair of Dalmar."

Jaskier frowned and mouthed 'Dalmar?' to none other then himself but the innkeep nodded and seemed to carry a slight smile.

"He said you'd be coming back. He's on the out of town working in Lanny's fields. You find her, you'll find Al."

"hmm"

Geralt gave the man a few coins, leaving Jaskier to pay for his own lodging and bath and he walked outside. He took his personal belongings from Roach and then let the stable boy take her while he went back inside to receive a key and bring his things up to his room. He left his armor and sword on and hanging from his shoulder in a mere matter of convenience as he once again made his way outside to the street. Jaskier had dumped his things hastily in his own room, his lute still slung over his shoulder as he hurried after the Witcher. 

"Geralt, Who exactly are we looking for? Why would you want to see him? Shouldn't we be asking about the white horse? Geralt?"

The bard spilled one question after another, but Geralt answered none as he started walking towards the edge of town. He could have asked bystanders where to go but he realized he didn't have to when he caught onto a vaguely familiar scent that was barely there above the usual scents of any small village. After catching that scent his feet seemed to move easily into the right direction. Jaskier did his best to keep up but it seemed there was an unspoken hurry in the Witcher's step. One that abruptly halted on the edge of the first field. Jaskier nearly (or actually did) bump into Geralt with a small huff and recovered quickly to see why Geralt stopped. 

There were several villagers working in the field, between the growing crops. Jaskier spotted several women, a handful of boys and two elder men. And then he spotted a younger one. A loose shirt on with the laces undone made his chest and part of his abdomen show as he was bend over to weed between the crops. His hair was tied in a loose pony tail that fell like water from his shoulder all the way to the ground. Jaskier could guess that should the lad stand up it would come passed his hip. Because it was hovering just on the ground the end was a bit dirty. Like his hands were. Brown from the dirt and the hard work. A pearly shine seemed to cling to his skin. The sweat of his labor placed like morning dew on his body. Even though Jaskier couldn't see his face, the bard knew a handsome man when he saw one. And this was one of the rare finer specimens to roam the continent. What a song he could compose about those kind of looks.. Maybe he ought to try it. 

"Alistair!"

Geralt called out. Jakier turned his head to the Witcher, who seemed to carry a certain expression the Bard found hard to describe. He saw it before, glimpses actually. Some sort of... calmth? Fondness? Peace? no no. None of those words accurately described it. Jaskier tried to think of a word for it, to give it a name as he turned back to the field again. But the view halted his thoughts. The man he eyed before with the ridiculously gorgeous long hair had looked up when Geralt called out.

_That's Alistair of Dalmar?!_

Jaskier had thought to himself. The man had a dreamy smile. Now Jaskier found himself handsome and charming -thank you very much- and was not often prone to admit there may be a man around to rival his features. But in this case Alistair didn't do a very poor job. Jealousy however was beneath the bard. If he could even charm married women to bed he shouldn't feel threatened by some healthy competition. Very, healthy, competition. The man approached. He was taller then Jaskier. Almost as tall as Geralt, but perhaps short of a nose length of the same height. He was leaner. A slender frame yet not scrawny, thin or meager. He was healthy, with some good muscles to him in the right places. Yet nothing as bulky as Jaskier had witnessed whenever Geralt bathed. He had fine lines running along his body, showing his healthy frame was well trained and fed. He didn't have the body of a champion, but he definitely had the body of a dancer.

His smile was a pearly one. Two fine rows of white bone showing as he laughed. And his eyes... Gods those eyes... The only thing Jaskier found equally captivating were Geralt's eyes. From Amber to gold they went to sometimes pitch black if Geralt had just come back from killing a monster and his potions hadn't yet worn off. But these... Oh they were gorgeous. Silver. In it's purest form. Like cool sunlight reflected on a body of water they twinkled while the light metal color brought a depth to them that would shame the oceans. Ah yes.. Jaskier appreciated the finer things in life. And this was a very fine one. 

"Geralt! It's been a while. What brings you back to this hole in the map of the continent?"

The voice matched his eyes. Light, twinkling, melodious. _He'd make a formidable Bard. I'd just hate the competition as much as i'd love to hear him sing._ Jaskier dreamed on while the two exchanged words.

"Some contracts came up nearby. I'm following the work."

Geralt replied. Something stirred in him. Perhaps a relief to see Alistair again. Perhaps something else. Again it was hard to name because it was quite new to the Witcher. He could only remember feeling this once before, when he heard Jaskier sing right before he met him a second time... He wouldn't voice it. Perhaps it was nothing. But he was happy to see the other again.

"Of course you are. And company you've brought! Who's it, i have the honor of meeting?"

The eyes shifted to Jaskier and he wasn't prepared for how deep they were, yet how light they gazed and it made him tingle and grow hot and cold and he hoped to Melitele and all that was holy that the heat wasn't creeping up to his face.

"B-bard. I mean Jaskier! I'm Jaskier the Bard."

He awkwardly held out a hand but Alistair laughed and shook it sincerely. 

"Pleased to meet you. Have you two settled yet? It's early, i'm assuming you have just arrived."

"Roach is in the stables. We've already paid for lodging."

Geralt replied on point. Jaskier tilted his head and made an addition to that.

"Well yes, but we haven't eaten and i'm quite famished so if there's any good food you'd recommend-"

"The tavern's no place to eat here. Their ale is good but that is the best of it. Inn's no recommendation either, but i'd suggest you come find me at Lanny's in a bit. She makes a mean stew. I'll go tell here we have guests. Otherwise she may think i'm slacking off."

"We?"

"Yeah i stayed here longer then i'd expected. A month into my stay my coin ran out to pay for lodging at the inn. But considering all the work i'd done to get the village up and running, the town's folk offered me free stay. But the innkeeper is a good man and he barely gets enough travelers to earn his keep so i didn't want to occupy the room. Lanny let me into the house next to hers instead. It belonged to her brother. He died of sickness in my first week here. It was rough on her. But she's made good on her promise to move on. She's a brave one. And quite feisty, i'll tell you that. You show no manners at the table and she'd be quick enough to tap you on the fingers with a broomstick. We take turns making meals. There's always someone staying over. I'm sure she'll have room for two more at the table."

"hmm"

Geralt listened to what his friend had been up to with a hidden interest. Though he didn't reply extensively, he did show he had listened to the story and silently accepted the invitation. Jaskier however was quite distracted by the figure in front of him. (Who could blame him, moving lips especially when looking so inviting were always distracting) And the voice was music to his ears. He took the time to take in the rest of the man's appearance, finding a sash with a deep blue lily crest bound around the man's waist. Another pretty thing for a very handsome man. Jaskier shook up from his daze when a sharp stinging pain spread over the left of his chest. Geralt that brute had elbowed him in the ribs! He could feel it turning blue on the spot. Damn that witcher. All because Jaskier wasn't paying attention to the same thing. (he WAS paying attention mind you, just to different details)

"Uh Yes, thank you so much for the invitation, we'd love to join you."

The bard spoke up almost frantically before he'd get another elbow to his ribs. 

* * *

After Geralt and Jaskier had spoken with Alistair some more (or actually it was Alistair and Geralt speaking and Jaskier staring at both without pardon) Geralt left Jaskier in the field to go to the inn where he found a bath drawn in his room. It would be good to clean up before dinner. As Alistair warned, he didn't want to show up with poor manners to a woman who was kind enough to provide him a meal. He'd spend the better part of the rest of the day cleaning up himself and his armor and swords. Finding he needed to do a recount of his inventory and possibly mend some of his spare clothes too. Cleaning the armor made him come across the work Alistair had done on it after facing the Water Hag in Touramesh. It stood out next to the rough stitching and patchwork Geralt had done to fix his armor himself whenever it took a beating. Secretly it made his mouth corners curl up just enough to qualify as a beginning smile. 

Jaskier had stayed around Alistair, poking and prodding for more information about both the man and his history with the great witcher Geralt of Rivia. And of course to shamelessly flirt away in the hopes this man wouldn't turn down his advances. Kind as he was he didn't seem the sort to act out when being propositioned by another man. (Gods knew there were stuck up pricks in all of the continent who would grow livid at even a hint of interest towards the same gender. Apparently frolicking with male company as a male was still frowned upon in most parts.) Jaskier however wasn't worried for himself. He'd have Geralt to protect him and even then, Alistair gave him a sense of ease. Like nothing would offend the man. Nothing of that sort anyway.

"So, Alistair? from where do you hail?"

Jaskier softly plucked at the strings of his Lute, occupying his fingers while his mind was absent trying to make conversation and composing a song at the same time. He sat on a rock at the edge of the field, next to which Alistair sat on his knees, wrist deep in the ground to weed out the bad from the good plants and crops. He continued while engaging in conversation with the Bard.

"I come from Dalmar."

"It's funny, i've been to many small places and know many town names yet i've never heard of Dalmar." 

"It's a small blotch on the map. I'm not surprised. Most people don't know where it is."

"So where IS Dalmar?"

"It lays between four mountains, each to a corner of the winds. Close to borders of larger lands and kingdoms. Dalmar was once one of such, but too small to be seen as a land, It became a sanctuary instead. It really doesn't belong to any kingdom or crown."

"Do you miss it?"

Alistair paused and looked up. Something sad gleamed in his eyes when he nodded and Jaskier swore he could feel it tug on one of his heartstrings. If his heart was a Lute, this look would have played a sad and lonely note. Ah... More inspiration for a love song. He should ask Alistair to be his muse. Jaskier inwardly shook his head and tried to focus on the man. He was getting ahead of himself.

"I do. Terribly so."

"Would you go back there?"

Alistair huffed slightly and shook his head.

"Not even if i could. Too many things happened. I doubt i'd be welcome there any longer."

"Oh... I'm sorry"

"Pay it no mind. What of you Jaskier? Do you miss the place you came from?"

The bard thought about it. Honestly he could say that with his free spirit and travel lust he had never once been homesick. 

"No actually. I mean i would visit. I will always think of it fondly. But i don't necessarily miss it."

"You are fortunate then."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps i feel i could love every place as much as the one i came from. Depending on what i make of it."

Alistair nodded in agreement. The sadness seemed to lift from his eyes.

"A sudden request of me perhaps and for that i apologize, but you are a Bard. Would you consider playing in the tavern after dinner? I'm sure the people would love to have some entertainment to celebrate how far they've come since last winter. Many come from rough times, to have some songs play to accompany their ale would do them some good."

Jaskier beamed at the chance to perform for these good folk. And on Alistair's invitation he promised he'd play later that night. But it brought his attention back on the very subject that pushed them to go here. Songs and his lack there of. He needed the stories of great deeds to make for interesting ballads. The people would just gobble them up. And truth be told his earlier works which he had to make through his own imagination were nothing short of embarrassing. He simply carried an artistic spirit stretched to different fields of expertise. Imagining greatness was not as easy as translating the things he'd seen or heard. 

"oh! That reminds me. Geralt mentioned the fisher's village. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that?"

"What? Touramesh? That's where we met."

Jaskier nearly fell off the boulder in shock.

"You were there?! Geralt mentioned nothing of it! The cod is always short on details. He'll tell me of a monster and then leave me with no description of the event! How am i suppose to create any new wondrous works if he keeps skipping on the most important bits?"

Alistair chuckled. A light sound that made Jaskier fight to keep down a blush. Blast this dream made flesh. Jaskier had a weak for pretty things. It showed in everything. His clothing style, his fancies for expensive oils and other trinkets, and definitely in his taste for romance or... bed partners. For a lack of better words. 

"I'm sure he has a reason. If haven't noticed, he doesn't actually talk much. As for the accounts of his contracts, perhaps he just doesn't wish to relive them. He does not often get away unscathed."

Jaskier frowned. To be very honest he hadn't thought of it that way. But then again, Geralt was a hard man to read. His silent grunts and glares and overall poor conversation skill left things to be desired for.

"Ah.. Well.. I made a song about made up monsters once... it wasn't a success. Yet when i met Geralt i finally composed a masterpiece, they sing it in almost every town!"

"I suppose there's no harm in telling you what i know. I didn't see all of it, i was upstream from the nest when he battled the creatures. But there were many."

"How many?"

"Hard to say. Could be ten, fifteen? couldn't be much more then twenty though."

"How would you know there weren't any more?"

"The sludge on the riverbanks. Drowners, as people call them, leave a nasty ooze where they move. The more you have of them the more slimy the riverbank becomes."

"Ugh." Jaskier shivered in his skin just thinking about it. "So there were about twenty- wait hold on. You were upstream? What were you doing there?"

Alistair sits back, taking a break from the weeding and he looks up.

"Fishing."

Jaskier made a face. 

"In.... infested waters? Has no one ever told you that's not a good idea!"

Alistair shrugged.

"Seemed like a good idea at the time to me. But yes. Everyone. Including your witcher. Who, might i quote, called me 'foolish' to my face just to see if i was indeed quite mad. I am not."

"Only someone short of a marble would go fishing near monsters."

Alistair shook his head. A friendly smile still playing on his features.

"Well... At least it solved the problem until Geralt of Rivia showed up. A temporarily solution before the permanent one if you will. Good thing he came when he did though. I wouldn't have been able to keep it up for long. It appeared later that we had overlooked the strange behavior of the nest which explained itself in a rather unpleasant way."

Jaskier scrambled to get a piece of parchment and readied his quill trying to jot down details of what Alistair provided over the same story Geralt refused to tell him more about. 

"What way?"

"They were under the uhm... what's the word for it? Spell, command, enchantment... Take your pick. Under something, lead by a Water Hag. A big one."

"Really? Wat did it look like?" Jaskier asked while he furiously kept writing details and rhyme words on his parchment.

"Ghastly"

Jaskier dropped his quill. Glaring with his blue eyes to the man who grinned at him with amusement. 

"You know that's not funny." Jaskier picked up his quill and pointed the end to Alistair. "You're as helpful as Geralt is when i ask him about it."

Alistair shook his head. 

"You should count yourself fortunate that you didn't see it."

Perhaps he should, but then again Jaskier wished he had. Such songs he would be singing! 

* * *

In the evening, both Geralt and Jaskier were seated at the table in Lanny's house. Alistair helped her with the meal and brought food to the table. Jaskier was a bit too enthusiastic and got swatted on his fingers by Lanny when he wanted to take a piece of meat before they all got seated properly. They sat at a full table. Old man Cambel and Seamstress Cicil who both were the last survivors of their respective families. Thomas and Berren, two of the older boys that worked in Lanny's field that buried both their parents when the sickness plagued the village. Another two young boys, one of which was Lanny's son and the other the son her brother left behind. And three young girls. Two of Lanny's one of her brother. 

When all was set and they were all seated, Lanny called for silence. 

"Let us be grateful for the food we have to eat, the company of our loved ones and the help of our dear friends. Let this meal give strength to get us through another day, doing what we must, and what we can. May destiny be kind to us."

Geralt didn't really believe in Destiny and the works. But he wouldn't rudely interrupt the woman. So he remained silent and let her finish.

"Bless these good men, our guests, on their journey wherever it may take them. Keep them in good health."

She finished and picked up the first bowl of food, offering it to Alistair who politely skipped the right for first serves.

"After you Lanny."

Lanny instead offered Geralt the bowl. He didn't want to disrespect her or her hospitality so he took the first serve and put some on his plate. Then around the table they softly started speaking to one another as they filled up their plates and ate. Alistair sat next to the youngest of the girls. He helped fill her plate but she seemed occupied with only one thing: Staring at Geralt of Rivia. Alistair recognized the look. It's how she had looked at him the first weeks that he was here. Until she got used to his company. 

"Why is your hair so white?"

She suddenly asked. Silence fell around the table. Geralt for a moment wasn't sure how to reply. His replies usually only counted for adults asking stupid or annoying questions. He had no answer for a little girl. Jaskier looked at him expectantly, wondering what the big bad witcher would say to a child, but then they were taken by surprise by Alistair who turned to the girl with a smile and replied while he let her play with his long hair. 

"Well... It's like this you see. When the moon saw what the Sun had done to my hair, it grew jealous. So much so that it wanted to have it's own reflection carried on a breeze. Like the sun, who had come all the way down from the skies when i slept to hide her light in my hair, to turn it yellow and gold, So did the moon sneak up to Geralt in his sleep and hid it's light in his hair so it turned white and silver. That way, both the sun and the moon would have their reflections dancing on the wind."

Jaskier's mouth was hanging open. And he mentally stored away this beautiful story to use it later. Because what a beautiful tale it was. (even though it couldn't be further from the truth) The girl's eyes were wide and looked at Geralt who (despite the utter ridiculousness of the story) was quite amused and appreciated the answer -false though it was-. 

"Did that really happen Geralt? Did the moon hide in your hair?"

She asked full of wonder. Jaskier eyed to the side and Alistair looked apologetic. But Geralt nodded and showed a genuine smile to the girl.

"Yes it did."

The little girl beamed. 

"I want to catch the moon in my hair! Can i? Can i Alistair?"

Jaskier frowned.

"But then what of the Sun? Won't she be jealous?"

Geralt glared at him when the little girl pouted and looked confused. But then the Witcher turned to her.

"You can catch the stars in your hair little one. Then all of them will be happy."

The girl's smile returned full force and the rest of dinner she could speak of nothing else but catching starlight in her hair and what it would turn her hair into. Geralt couldn't quite lose that smile that worked its way onto his face. Not even when the bard leaned over and whispered.

"Who knew the white wolf, Geralt of Rivia was so soft."

Geralt gritted his teeth and hissed back.

"Breathe a word of it Bard, and it'll be your last."

And yet his mouth corners never really went down.

Suddenly the door of Lanny's house swung wide open and a girl stormed in wild and in panic. 

"Alistair! Alistair! You must come quick!"

Alistair already raised from his chair while he asked her what's wrong.

"Asha calm down girl, what is it?"

"It's mum! I think-" She hiccuped a sob. "I think she's dying." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yes Geralt is such a softy when it comes to kids. Jaskier is going to hold that one over him.


	5. the bruxa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The white horse appears in town and against his better judgement, Geralt let's it run. He faces the real problem of this town in the form of a monster, but still suspects the white horse has something more to do with all of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So ignore the fact that i tend to drift to dress up games to get an idea of what i want my character to look like. (This is HARD there aren't very many good MALE characters to dress up.) Because i can't draw that well myself, -i know, i tried, it wasn't pretty- And ignore the fact that this usually happens because i don't get enough sleep. But this whole idea for Alistair's character started on a particular dress up game with a concept that interested me. I'm a sucker for mythology and fantasy stuff and so this character was born and fit right into my Witcher fanfic i wanted to make. I'm not making spoilers yet, but i'll post a screenshot of the start page of the game and a character save later because it's very interesting. And i'll be delving a little deeper into the myth around Alistair's character. I'll also be taking some liberties with this myth. But it'll hopefully be fun and turn out well regardless. I'm so happy to receive positive vibes from you. It really means a lot to me. So thanks!
> 
> love you all and if you have any comments, tips or if you just want to say hi, please feel free to do so.  
> Also today is my birthday. I feel old XD. I want to wish everyone who shares a birthday with me a happy birthday and i hope you all have a good day (birthday or not).

* * *

"You have to hurry! I don't think she's gonna make it!"

Alistair was up and at the door before she even finished speaking. Geralt got up after him out of pure instinct. Jaskier never being one to pass up the chance of an epic tale quickly raced after the two while Lanny hushed the children and placed them in Old man Cambel's care. She came after them as quick as she could. When Geralt and Jaskier pushed out onto the street in the direction Alistair had run in however, he was gone. The girl was still with them and Geralt took her by an arm. 

"What is happening?"

The girl sobbed, having to make an effort to get the words out.

"Mum always goes to the market in our neighbor town. She didn't come back so quickly and when she did- Something attacked her!"

Geralt silently cursed for not having his swords on him. Jaskier had caught up and heard everything she said. He looked around but he didn't spot Alistair. He just couldn't believe the man would run off like that. Or maybe he was getting things? Lanny huffed as she just came running after them.

"Alistair's on his way girl. Go back inside and stay with Cambel."

Jaskier stood at a distance from the trio and suddenly caught onto a sound that appeared a lot like thundering hooves. He turned to see what it was and gasped. 

"Geralt!"

They turned around to Jaskier's call, everywhere villagers were spilling from the doors and windows at the sound to take a look. 

"There it is! The white horse!" Jaskier pointed. It came storming towards them at a thundering pace. The bard's eyes widened. Even with the fading light and night slowly falling, the White stallion was an incredible sight. Light and elegant yet wild and untamed and furiously galloping through the town. It came at them. Jaskier watched as the stallion came closer and closer, neighing and kicking it's hooves in the dirt with powerful strides. Geralt didn't trust it. This was no coincidence anymore. If anything, this horse had to do with these people being healed. And if it appeared when someone was dying, this horse might be cursed. Whatever the case was, this was magic. Had to be. There was no way this wasn't. 

The witcher stepped into the middle of the street, blocking the path. The white stallion didn't slow. Didn't evade. And Geralt held his ground.

"Geralt?"

Jaskier asked uncertain. The Horse came closer and closer.

"Geralt!"

Jaskier called out just as he thought the witcher was going to get trampled. The Horse halted abruptly. Prancing right before Geralt. Frustratingly pacing. Wanting to get passed him but not quite daring to.

"What are you doing?!"

the girl called out. Lanny joined her.

"You have to let it run!"

Villagers joined them in their shouts.

"Let it go!"

"Get out of the way Witcher!"

"Let it pass!"

Jaskier stood on the side. Surprised by how wild yet how beautiful the horse was. There was something odd about it though. Jaskier could swear that as the stallion restlessly paced up and down, he saw glimpses of silver in it's eyes. 

"I'll lose my mum! If you don't let it pass she'll die!"

The girl cried. Geralt squinted his eyes at the horse. Staring it down, not quite attacking, but not backing away either. The restlessness did not help this staring contest. But Geralt listened to his instincts and they told him something was wrong. It was a gut feeling that this was something more then just a healing horse.

"Geralt.. what if her mother really dies?"

Jaskier reminded him with worry in his blue eyes. Geralt's scowl did not lift. But against his better judgement, he stepped aside. The White stallion bolted. Running all the way to the town's square where it ran a circle around the well and then ran out of town. Disappearing in the distance with neighing and bristling noises. As soon as the sound of hooves had gone away, Jaskier released a breath he didn't know he was holding. Lanny quickly ordered someone to get a bucket of water from the well.

"I need my swords. Where's your house girl?"

Geralt said. The girl sobbed too loudly to give him any words. But Lanny quickly gave him directions. He and Jaskier raced to the Inn. Well mostly it was Jaskier trying to keep up with the Witcher. Geralt burst into his room, blindly reached for his swords and left his armor for what it was. There was no time to strap in. Jaskier only barely reached the room before the Witcher stormed out again heading to the house that supposedly held the dying woman. If she was attacked, the monster might still be close. And anything she could still tell him improved the chances of him being able to track it down before it killed again. It would just prove more challenging without armor and potions... Fuck. Potions. There was no time to go back for them. It was useless anyway, since Geralt wasn't sure what he was going to face. 

Jaskier's heavy breathing behind him and the patter of his feet in the mud let the witcher know he was having trouble keeping up. Yet Geralt couldn't afford to slow down. Alistair was no where in sight and they could literally be walking into a trap. Somehow Geralt still doubted whether he made the right decision to let the white horse run like that. If it only showed up if someone was dying... Even if it saved them, something was wrong with that horse. Maybe it was cursed. Maybe it was a monster. Either way this raised a lot of questions Geralt could only answer once he saw the damage with his own eyes.

Once they got to the house, they ran into Alistair who just kicked in the door and made his way inside. Geralt could smell him from across the street. The sweet scent of lillies sharp and bitter in the air now. So strongly that he felt like he could taste the scent on the back of his tongue. Geralt was about to barge in after him but an eerie ear shattering sound reached him first and ground him to a halt. He hissed as he twisted his head. He knew that sound. Jaskier came up panting behind him and almost retched at the sound. He turned pale and a little greenish. Geralt gritted his teeth.

"Stay outside Jaskier"

With determination Geralt pushed his way into the cabin, where the sound was even worse. There was a quiet and shrill voice singing in a language that Geralt barely recognized. Alistair stood three feet away from the door as he cringed and tried to shuffle further into the room to get to the woman laying on the floor. Bloodied and gasping with eyes staring in the distance. Geralt could sense she wasn't dead yet, but she was fading. To the left of her there was a dark haired female form. Distorted, twisted, singing that wretched song that made Geralt fight down the urge to vomit. Humans would long have emptied the content of their stomachs upon the floor. In this case he was thankful to be a witcher. Or -not to feel- as others do. 

He was surprised however that Alistair could hold out so well to a Bruxa's song. Then again it only further confirmed Geralt's suspicion that there was something Alistair wasn't telling him. The Bruxa had her back to the door. Geralt reached for his sword but unfortunately the unsheathing was noisy enough to draw her attention. Alistair who had just reached the woman laying on the floor was the first to fall in her line of vision, and she attacked. 

"Fuck!"

Geralt tried to get there first but she was quick. In the blink of an eye she had Alistair pinned to the ground, sharp talons digging into his arms to keep him immobile and her ugly face right above his.

"oohh don't you smell sweet."

She hissed. Geralt tried to swing at her but he was afraid of hitting Alistair. It gave him pause enough to be hit by a blood curdling screech the Bruxa used to send him flying all the way to the other side of the house and against the wall. She turned back to Alistair in an instant. Ready to take a bite out of him, but then she paused.

* * *

Jaskier usually wasn't the one to take no for an answer. Especially when Geralt told him not to do something he was keen on doing it anyway. The only thing that kept him outside this time was not Geralt's plea but that horrible noise that twisted in his head and made him want to give up that delicious meal he had at Lanny's earlier. So he stayed outside. If only to spare himself the pain and the bile rising in his throat. Lanny came huffing while carrying a bucket of water from the well and stopped short a few feet further away from the house than where Jaskier was standing. She almost dropped the bucket. Determined she tried to step closer but the sound nearly made her hurl up her stomach content as well. So she stopped. Jaskier wouldn't have let her go inside anyway. Even when the sound stopped and a horrible screech sounded from the house. 

"Where are Alistair and the Witcher?"

"They are inside. No! we can't go in. We'd only get in the way. We have to wait."

"But they need the water. It's healing. It'll help her."

"Honestly i think they are a tad occupied right now. Whatever attacked her.. i think it's still there."

Lanny's eyes widened as she looked at the house and quickly murmured a prayer to the higher power she believed in. Jaskier eyed the house with worry. Oh he wanted to go inside so badly too, but if that song would start up again he didn't know if he could survive that. 

* * *

Geralt groaned as he pushed himself to his feet again. This would have been much easier with a potion. Yet his senses were high enough to aid him in this fight. They were also high enough to point him to something odd. Something that was lacking. Or seemed to. Until he could smell it. Fear. Yet it was a faint scent, drifting in from outside. There was no scent of fear coming from the inside. The woman was too faded to be afraid, the Bruxa was probably too stupid to fear him and yet... He thought Alistair would scent of it at least fairly, whilst being pinned down by the Bruxa. Yet fear was the one thing lacking in the mix of scents that the blonde gave off. Instead he smelled something different. Resistance, pain but not fear. 

The Bruxa seemed occupied with the prey beneath her. But not in a way that Geralt had expected. Normally they would tear into a victim instantly. But she was going over Alistair as if she was trying to figure him out. Squinting at him. Her talons digging further into his arms. Sniffing him even. Alistair didn't look away. He stared up at her. His lips pressed in a thin angry line and his eyes stood furious. 

"You're... different.." She hissed.

"What are you?"

She sniffed him again, Alistair gritted his teeth as he saw Geralt approach. The reflection in his silver eyes betrayed the Witcher's move and once again the Bruxa send him flying towards the far wall. Alistair used the distraction to speedily get a grip on one of her talons and using it to stab her in her own ribs. She cried out angrily and swatted at him. Creating three deep gashes along his chest. 

"Oh you foolish boy! You'll pay for that!"

She was about to swat him again but this time Geralt was quicker. He took a powerful swing and took the claw right off. She wailed in pain and quickly abandoned Alistair to take up a fighting position.

"I will kill you for that. Slowly, as my blood slave" she cackled.

Geralt huffed.

"No thanks. You're not my type."

He pointed the sword at the Bruxa while he pulled Alistair away from her with the other hand. 

"You okay?"

He asked without looking, keeping his vision on the creature. Alistair huffed and crawled to the injured woman. 

"I'm fine. Keep her off me while i work."

Geralt used his senses finding that the woman was on the edge.

"Alistair... She's fading."

But Alistair was stubborn about it.

"I can save her. You do what you do, and i do what i do. Now kill the damn bitch."

Geralt couldn't help but smirk.

"My pleasure."

The creature however had other ideas. She burst through the roof and made her way outside to escape the Witcher. Geralt didn't hesitate and ran outside to go after her. 

* * *

Jaskier was holding onto Lanny to comfort her. (with pure intentions thank you very much. She was old enough to be his mother!) when they both yelped as something monstrous burst through the roof and Geralt came running outside. Tracking it as it made it's way across rooftops. Clawing it's way down a wall into a pig pen. 

"Geralt! Oh what- What IS that?"

Jaskier called out. Suddenly seeming to have forgotten that Geralt was occupied with fighting the damn thing. Jaskier had many more questions but he didn't ask. He stepped out into the middle of the street to keep an eye on the fight and watch the epicness of Geralt working to slay the monster. Oh what a tale and a song this would be! He completely forgot about Lanny, who saw her chance to take the bucket inside and bring water to Alistair who'm Jaskier also had momentarily forgotten. He was entirely occupied with watching as Geralt worked his way into the pig pen, avoiding torn pieces of a pig being thrown at him to get to the creature who seemed to be missing a claw.

_Geralt must have hacked it off already. Oh Jaskier why didn't you go inside?! You missed it!_

* * *

A particularly challenging battle, nearly a dozen slaughtered livestock and three destroyed houses later, Geralt finally killed the Bruxa as her final screech echoed through the village and all came to a deafening silence as she crumbled into a miserable heap of monster corpse. The witcher himself was slightly worse for wear. A few new injuries to cover his body and covered in blood, grime, pigshit and other distasteful things. He was going to have to bathe... again. He stalked up to Jaskier barely panting. 

"That.. Was a Bruxa"

He rumbled as he gave a firm pat on Jaskier's chest that made him take two steps backwards with an 'oof' and then an "oh gods that smells."

No fucking shit. Geralt was the one covered in it and for him it smelled worse. He only ever had been able to hold his dinner because he learned to ignore certain things. He walked inside the house to find Lanny sitting by a woman who looked surprisingly lively compared to when Geralt left the house. In all honesty he hadn't expected that she would make it. Alistair on the other hand only looked worse. His skin had turned pale, some veins were showing on thin skinned places, his lips had lost their color and his hair looked even more greenish then blonde now. His eyes were half lidded and red around the rim. His clothes were littered with dark patches and he looked as if he could fall over at any given moment. 

He looked up. His silver eyes lost their shine and they looked so dead that Geralt almost had to do a double take. What on earth happened in here? Jaskier pushed into the house passed Geralt and one look made him gasp and rush to Alistair's side.

"By Melitele. what happened?"

Alistair showed a weak smile. 

"I told you i'd save her."

Then he collapsed. Jaskier could barely catch him and with the added weight almost lost his footing. It was Geralt who quickly took over and steadied him by taking Alistair off his hands. 

"They both need to rest. Thank the gods Merice will be fine."

Lanny mumbled. But one look at Alistair made Geralt uneasy as all he could sense from Lanny was worry and fear. It gushed off of her like a wave. Which only made him worry more for Alistair. 

"Lanny, what happened to him?"

Jaskier dared to ask. Lanny was near tears and she shook her head.

"It's never been this bad. He's always healed quickly. You should have let the horse run Witcher. You should have let it run."

Geralt stared at Alistair who'm he had gathered up in his arm. The man looked as if he were dying and honestly smelled like it too. He felt light as if there was no weight on him anymore and all Geralt could think of was: _It's not my fault. The white horse did this. And i'm going to kill it._

* * *

once again it seemed that the witcher didn't make himself very popular with the townsfolk. At the price of Alistair's health. Though this was much different from Touramesh, again the Witcher felt guilt poking at him from the inside. How was it, that he was able to protect Jaskier just fine. And then within two encounters with Alistair failed to protect him both times? Why was it so different? Why was it that when both of them appeared to be stubborn as all hell, one got away unscathed and the other suffered for it? What game was fate playing? If this even was a game at all, and not some random shit because the higher powers that be felt bored and wanted some suffering for entertainment. 

Thankfully this time he had Jaskier with him who was able to spin the tale into a song rather quickly and soothe the population by singing to them in their tavern and telling them how Geralt had killed the monster, stopping it from killing anyone else. Still, It only seemed to help a little. The bard did his best but after what happened people were skeptical and they gave the witcher the cold shoulder. To Geralt it was an improvement of the usual hate speeches and other cruel actions they took against him. The cold shoulders was something he could handle. What he couldn't take however was moving on without knowing if Alistair was going to be okay. Even though it seemed like he was outstaying his welcome. Usually when he was unwanted, Geralt wouldn't hesitate to leave. But this was different.

He had brought Alistair to the house where the man was staying and found when he returned to the inn that rumors spread fast. The innkeeper wanted him out. Jaskier quickly tried to calm the man and explain things to him but the man would have none of it. Geralt didn't say a word. He collected his things and left the key to the room with the innkeeper telling him to keep the coin. He brought roach to the pen behind Lanny's house and put his things in the living room of the house where Alistair was staying. Lanny was one of the view townsfolk who didn't protest but just looked at him with a sadness in her eyes. It was the hardest thing. Yet Geralt refused to leave. 

Jaskier was left in a dilemma. He sang in the tavern like Alistair asked him to, and then went to his room in the inn, taking half an hour on debating what he should do before he too gathered up his things. And though painfully aware of the wasted coin he turned in his key and marched up to Lanny's late brother's house to keep Geralt and Alistair company. To be fair he was also very worried. He knew Alistair less then a day, but he could tell the man was kind and friendly, joyful (and not to mention gorgeous). Such a man did not deserve this fate. 

* * *

Geralt had taken care of Alistair's injuries as good as he could with both help from Jaskier and Lanny, Who'm he denied the opportunity to look after his own injuries until he was certain they had done all they could for Alistair. After all, when he was injured before, Alistair helped him too. Lanny gave up on trying to convince the witcher to get himself looked after too and left to wash Alistair's bloodied clothes and mend them. Jaskier however was not so easily dismissed. He drew a bath and forced Geralt to soak in it, even though the water was lukewarm and the tub was cramped, Geralt appreciated the gesture none the less. The time soaking in the tub should have been shorter. Because the Witcher was given too much time to think on what happened. And it only made him angrier.

"It's the horse. It's cursed"

He rumbled. Bitter as he spat the words out like they were poison.

"What makes you say that? You heard the people of this town, Geralt. That horse has healed people here every time it showed up." Jaskier questioned him. Of course he would. He saw a white horse. He didn't feel what Geralt had felt. He didn't experience things the same as the witcher. Even his medallion had reacted to the presence of the horse. This was a monster in disguise.

"But at what cost? You heard the woman. Alistair has been hurt before. The white horse shows up, heals someone and makes Alistair sick or wounded. Sounds cursed to me."

Jaskier's eyes widened. 

"But how- no wait, why Alistair? If this horse is healing people why take it out on someone else? Could it be because he was the only stranger until we came? Or because he's the one helping them? But why would a creature heal people by asking for such penalties?"

"The fuck if i know."

"I thought you Witchers were well versed in monsters, monsterhunting and the like."

"Not for something we've never actually seen or heard of. Whatever the fuck this is... it's rare."

"I never thought you'd get to hunt something you haven't actually hunted before. It's so exciting!"

Geralt glared daggers up at Jaskier who quickly recovered and tried to pull his excited expression from his face.

"-and horrifying. Definitely terrible!"

Geralt looked away resisting the urge to shake his head. That night, the bard had curled up in the only spare bed there was while Geralt took his place on the floor between Alistair's bed and the fireplace. To catch a bit of warmth while keeping an eye on the man he failed to protect twice. It wouldn't happen again. He wouldn't let it. No matter what. He would find that horse, and he would kill it. Even if it was the same one that saved him from the water hag, taking it out on Alistair went too far. 


	6. in the well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt is set on killing the horse responsible for this mess. The well holds answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Before i forget, this picture i saved from the game is somewhat, what i wanted Alistair to look like. (the hair and the blue lily anyway) IGNORE THE WEIRD EAR BECAUSE THEY WOULDN'T LET ME PUT ON A NORMAL ONE. Alistair just has normal ears. (in human form anyway, i already said to much but then again i think most of you are clever enough to figure out the dealio.) Anyway so this isn't quite what he's suppose to look like (Because this dude is way too thin. I mean my god he's thinner then a twig and the jawline isn't quite right.) But yes his hair is that long. (Like just passed his hips.) and he wears earth colored clothes with the blue lily sash around his waist. (I don't even know if sash is the right word. Let's hope i'm not making a fool out of myself. (I might anyway with all the dress up game shit) English is not my first language. (I know! Shocking!)) Half of the logo has been cut off but the game is from Doll Divine. I'd tell you what it's called but that would tell you what Alistair is and i can't spoil that just yet.

* * *

It's been three days. Geralt killed the Bruxa three days ago and still Alistair didn't wake. Though peculiarly his injuries were healing faster then that of a human. Each time either Geralt or Jaskier changed the dressings of his wounds, the deep cuts seemed to have become smaller and more shallow. Geralt restlessly spend his nights on sorting, cleaning and mending his possessions just to have the mercy of being occupied with something. Sleep wouldn't come easy if at all and at day he was occupied on trying to gather information on the white horse. Which seemed increasingly difficult with each passing day. Each day that Alistair laid unconscious, the villagers were less inclined to speak with him. If Alistair was awake Geralt had not a single doubt in his mind that the other would berate the villagers for it like he did in Touramesh. 

Jaskier tried to go about his business as if it were just your average day, but Geralt could tell he was quiet compared to his normal demeanor. He still chatted and he sang and played his lute but there was a difference in the amount as well as the words he used. Lanny came to check in every day. Bless the woman for still caring enough to bring them food, (in her defense she said it's what Alistair would want) but mostly she came just to check up on him. 

Then on the fourth day, The witcher was directed to an important piece of information he had forgotten about until now. But only because his mind was occupied with so much else. There was a conversation he wasn't entirely focused on. But he let the words sink in none the less. Jaskier was working on Alistair's wounds with Lanny when he stopped at a set of wounds near his neck that, unlike the other wounds, was not healing well. It didn't look like it was healing at all.

"Lanny? What's this? Why isn't it healing?"

Lanny looked at it worried. She inspected the wound closely before sighing so deep Jaskier worried her soul may leave her in it. 

"They're not his injuries."

Jaskier looked up with a question in his eyes and Geralt sat up a bit straighter listening to the woman with his full attention now.

"What do you mean?"

The bard asked her. Lanny shook her head, once again close to tears.

"These aren't his injuries. They are Merice's."

Jaskier seemed even more confused then before. But if these were not made on him, how did they end up there in the first place? Was that the horse's doing? Was Geralt right?

"What? How? He took her injuries?"

The woman shook her head.

"I don't know how it works. I just know that's what it is because i saw him grew pale and sick as he drew the life back into one of the girls. The horse storms up to the well each time Alistair sets out to save someone, i think it gives power to the water because he uses the water on the dying and they survive."

That's when it hit the Witcher. How could he have missed that! The horse ran a circle around the well. Whatever was in the water both cured the woman Alistair was helping, and it made him sick. It had something to do with whatever the horse did to the water. White horses often referred to different species of water spirits. How foolish that he hadn't seen if before. Then again, there were a variety of white horse formed water beings. It was going to be hard to guess which one it was. Certainly because none of them were healers. Although this kind of backwards healing was cruel even for a spirit who only wished to help. Alistair was made a martyr because he healed quickly. That's how he could take the injuries and illness of the people here. And also the reason he couldn't save everyone. If he did he'd be dead by now. 

Things started to click slowly for the Witcher, but not enough to convince him not to take a look at the well. Whatever was going on, the well would have answers. Something was happening to the water in there. Something that was a result of the white horse running amok in town. Geralt stood up without a word, pulled his sword and marched out of the house. His goal clear in his mind. 

"What- Geralt? Wait where are you going? Geralt?!"

The bard called after him but the Witcher all but ignored him. He needed to see for himself what was going on in the well. When he approached the stone brick work he almost stopped. There was a familiar scent drifting from the well... It couldn't be. Geralt slowed down and approached wearily. Stalking up to the well as if it could swallow him at any second. Cautiously he leaned over the stone brick edge, that's when the scent hit him full force. Water Lillies... He looked deeper. The darkness seemed impenetrable for human eyes, but the Witcher could see the surface of the water shimmering. And there were things floating on the water's surface. Things that did not normally grew in wells. 

Geralt let his sword lean against the stones and pulled off his boots. Climbing over the edge before taking his sword up again. He needed a closer look. The few people out on the street who saw it started to murmur to each other and quickly fetched others to show them what the Witcher was doing. None of them had any idea of what was going on. And some whispered the Witcher would ruin them further with whatever he was doing. Geralt ignored everything from the village around him. All the noise and smells and senses he got from his surroundings. He was focused on the water. 

_It's the Lillies..._

Alistair had said it. The water flowers had allowed him to fish without detection. Yet after the battle, when the white horse appeared, the lillies were torn to shreds. _Was that the white horse's doing?_ That was a silent question the Witcher could not answer. He climbed down the well until he was just above the water surface. He tested it with his sword. Dipping the blade in. Nothing happened. Then he took a closer look at the water lillies. There were pads of deep green and flowers of pure white and the scent down here was overwhelming.

_Could they act as a filter like they did in the river?_

It would explain the sickness leaving, but it would not explain how this gave Alistair the power to take on injuries onto himself. Was it a curse? Or was the White horse a demon that Alistair had made a deal with a long time ago? Was this some form of magic Geralt could fight? He didn't know. Squinting he reached down to one of the flowers, he pulled it up from the water surface. The white water lily with it's pad made a soft motion as if it was bend by a soft breeze. But down here there was no wind. It was almost as if it was breathing. Geralt pulled it further up but found the stem held it close to the water. So he did the only thing he deemed logical. He took his sword, and he cut the stem.

The moment the blade sliced through the green stem, all the flowers closed save for the one he had cut and he could hear Alistair screaming faintly in the distance. Geralt whipped his head up and climbed out of the well while clutching the flower. Landing on the muddy dirt next to the well he had his sword drawn. The lily in his free hand. Alistair was in a bad way, The horse should have shown up by now. Why didn't it show? Why didn't it come when it's magic was threatened. Geralt cut a flower. It should have brought the horse here. _Where are you.._

Then Jaskier came out running. Panting and shaking he stopped a few feet away from Geralt and looked at him with wide eyes. Geralt could smell the sour tang of fear that came at him like a wave. And then he smelled something else, something coppery. Something all too familiar and strong. So strong it was bitter on his tongue. He looked down at the water lily in his hand and saw to his horror that the stem was bleeding red. Jaskier saw it and tensed in his entire body.

"Geralt, What have you done?"

* * *

Jaskier was taking care of Alistair who still laid unconscious in bed when Geralt walked out of the door. Normally the Bard had the sense to follow. But right now he seemed more concerned with caring for the injured man laying before him. If Geralt wanted to chase the white horse so badly thinking it was connected well... then he could do just that. Jaskier had no skills to aid with such a matter. He couldn't track down monsters for Alistair. All he could do was make sure the man was cared for. 

He yelped when he was wiping Alistair's arms with a wet cloth to bathe him a little and the man's hand suddenly grabbed him. Alistair's silver eyes stood unfocused. Like he fought sleep as much as confusion and headache. 

"T-take me to the water.... Jaskier tell him-... Tell Geralt-.. it's not-.. No he can't- i'll-"

Alistair's voice was raspy and there was something in it that made Jaskier's skin crawl. It sounded hollow and dark, unnatural as if it was something that came out of the depths of the deepest watery grave. And at the same time it sounded broken and lost. And between that, there was the desperate tinge of Alistair's own light and beautiful voice barely holding on. 

"What? What is it? Al, what are you trying to tell me?"

Alistair seemed to sink back into unconsciousness, when suddenly he let out a blood curdling scream and clawed at his neck as if someone bit him. His wounds started bleeding again and seemed to even deepen. Blood gushed from the wound in his neck and Jaskier was helpless for it. Not knowing what to do he ran out to find Geralt. But when he found him, Jaskier's blood froze. Geralt was holding a lily, and it was bleeding. 

* * *

_What have you done?_

The words haunted him. There was blood on Jaskier's clothing. And by scent Geralt could tell it wasn't his. The strange thing was that it was also coming from the water lily. He looked at the thing, it seemed to struggle to hold onto life. To cling to anything that might help it to survive. Then a loud neighing echoed through the street. There was the white horse. Running straight for Geralt. A wildness in his eyes that even Geralt hadn't seen in it before. The horse stormed up no longer the beauty it had been when it stormed up to wave off death. It looked like a running horror. The white fur was streaked with blood and dirt and there was a wound on it's neck, pouring red. It dripped along it's front legs and left red blotches in the street. 

Geralt expected it would attempt to trample him. This thing was brave enough to battle a fucking water hag. There was no telling how difficult it was going to be to kill the damn thing. Jaskier jumped aside when the horse pranced and wildly kicked it's hooves around. It looked like it was dying before Geralt had even struck. It had to be connected with the water lillies. Geralt squeezed the flower he was holding and the horse seemed to react to it. Crying in pain. Geralt let the flower fall to the ground and approached the horse with his sword drawn.

"I was grateful for you trying to save my life. Until you took that of Alistair as payment. That i cannot allow."

Geralt growled to the horse. The beast neighed and reacted distressed. People of the village had cried out in horror and fled when they saw the once beautiful horse run up in it's battered state. They all ran and hid in their houses, not daring to look. The horse kicked up again. But never close enough to hit Geralt. While the Witcher swung at the horse, all it did was evade. It approached whenever Geralt had swung and reared back when he was striking. It was an odd display going back and forth and if the horse wanted him dead, it could have kicked him several times over already. So why was it going back and forth like that? 

Jaskier followed the battle with his eyes as good as he could. But both the Witcher and the beast were fast in their movements. It was hard to keep track. Watching them go back and forth suddenly made Jaskier discover a pattern in their movements. Or at least, in the horse. It was trying to get to the flower! Then Geralt slashed at the left shoulder of the horse and it had no choice but to kick him in the chest in defense. It send The Witcher reeling backwards against the well, almost toppling in it. The horse snatched the flower from the ground and wanted to bolt, but Geralt got to his feet quick and used Aard to stop the horse from escaping. Knocking against it's legs it tripped. The beast tried to get up again but failed as one of it's legs gave out. The flower had fallen from it's teeth and the horse struggled to get up and bolt.

Something flashed across Jaskier's eyes. Something silver. He thought it was coming from Geralt's sword but with how grey the sky was today there was no light strong enough to reflect in the metal. Jaskier again saw a flash, silver turning to white as the horse's eyes started glowing and it's mane and tail turned from it's pure white into a fading green. Greener near the ends. Geralt approached the kicking horse ready to drive his sword through it's neck, and whatever horrible gut feeling shifted to high gear in Jaskier, made the Bard move to stand before the horse and shout out to the Witcher.

"GERALT STOP!" 

Why. Why did he do that? Why had Jaskier felt the need to stop him? And why DID Geralt pause? Geralt's sword nearly slipped from his hands. Staring at the Bard as if he had lost his mind. 

"Move Jaskier"

"No."

"Jaskier"

"Alistair woke. Before the horse appeared. He was trying to tell me something."

"Tell you what?"

"I eh.."

"WHAT Jaskier?!"

"I don't know! It didn't make a lot of sense. But i know that if you kill this horse, it's only going to make things worse."

"Get the fuck out of my way Jaskier."

"Argh you big oaf! Why aren't you listening! It's not the horse! It's the water!"

Geralt wanted to snap back at him but in that moment, Geralt's eyes fell on something behind Jaskier, and his sword fell from his hands, clattering to the ground. Jaskier turned around to see why and nearly lost his balance as he jumped back. The horse was gone. Instead, Alistair laid there naked on the floor, mud and blood soaked, dirty with the Lily in his hand, The stem curling around his fingers. Living, breathing. A slash across his shoulder where Geralt had hit the horse. 

"Geralt... Alistair IS the White Horse..."

The moment Jaskier said it, everything clicked. Geralt remembered when the horse charged the waterhag. Alistair was nowhere to be found after that. He appeared back in town as if nothing had happened. Here, whenever someone was ill, dying even, Alistair turned into the forebode of either death or salvation that would follow. He knew bad things were happening or about to happen by a mere feeling. In the tavern in this town, before he decided to stay, he had this weird trance that told him these people were in need of help. The kind of help not everyone could give. The lillies... The scent. He made them grow. That's why he smelled of them. _He put them there._

Alistair groaned, weak but waking, still very much on the edge. _He was already hurt and i almost killed him._ Jaskier knelt next to Alistair who's lips were moving, but the Bard couldn't make out what he was saying. 

"What? I can't- Geralt what is he saying?"

The witcher's senses were still fine tuned after battle and he could hear the words loud and clear. 

"Water. He needs water."

Geralt turned back to the well immediately and grabbed a bucket. He filled it and brought it back to Alistair. He spilled it little by little over Alistair's body and cleared away the grime, mud and other dirt only to discover that whenever the water hit a wound, it closed a bit. Geralt poured bucket after bucket over Alistair's body until there was no wound left on him. Then he picked Alistair up and brought him back to the house where he put him on the bed and covered him with a blanket to keep him warm. Alistair was out of it for a long while. Until finally he opened his eyes and sat up in bed. Geralt's piercing angry gaze made guilt well up in Al's eyes. 

"I'm sorry..."

Alistair said softly.

"I should have told you."

Geralt gritted is teeth, trying to keep his temper down but this made him angry.

"You fucking should have! Back in Touramesh. You didn't say a fucking word."

Alistair's silver eyes stood soft. His healthy look had returned to him the silver in his eyes was shining again. Despite that there was a look of guilt on his face.

"I'm sorry"

Alistair almost whispered. Geralt shook his head and stormed out. He really fucking hated being lied to. But there was more bothering him then just that. He didn't see it. He didn't know and he almost killed someone who just tried to help others. Geralt then decided that he was leaving in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise surprise. Geralt is not good with feelings. pff. Okay so this turned out a little heavier then i had anticipated. BUT, everything is going to be okay. (unlike a certain witcher) Alistair knows how to apologize and is not shy or stubborn about it. Jaskier has the chance to sing more of his newly composed songs and these three won't be done with each other for a loooooong time.
> 
> I mean the show indicated that Jaskier and Geralt knew each other for 22 years by the time of the dragon hunt so... we're just passed the beginning. We have plenty of time.


	7. Temeria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt learns of another witcher who'd gone to Temeria. Alistair and Jaskier decide to hit the road together for a while.

It was stupid, it was childish. But the next day Geralt was packing his belongings and ready Roach for the road. He was angry, upset and disappointed. Those who said Witchers don't feel anything were fucking liars. Geralt felt hurt. There was a lot of sense though. A lot of reason Alistair hadn't told him. They had known each other for less then a year. The months building between them increased their trust but apparently it hadn't been enough to breach that gap. Also, Geralt was a Witcher. Alistair was something Not human. No creature would (In their right mind) Honestly tell a Witcher that they were a monster in disguise. If that's even what he was. What angered him even more was that it all made sense. There was this twisting feeling in his gut when he thought about it. He couldn't put his finger on it, and he couldn't name it. And had it been anyone else this probably wouldn't have caused such an effect. 

He also had a big problem with the way Alistair 'helped' to save and cure the injured and the sick. Touramesh had been different. He had just been fishing for the town. Using his skills. But here, he turned himself into a martyr and Geralt couldn't understand why. Monster or not, the thought of Alistair hurting himself to cure others was grinding in his brain. He didn't like it. 

"You're running"

A voice shook the witcher from his thoughts. He glared at the person speaking them and found Alistair standing in the opening of the door. It was early. Probably too early for anyone else to be awake. 

"You should be in bed"

Geralt huffed back and continued packing. Ignoring a protesting whinny from Roach. Which made him glare at the horse.

"I'm surprised you still carry some concern for my well being, since you were planning to leave without a word."

Geralt said nothing. There was too much going on inside his mind. It was storming. And he couldn't get it to quiet down. There were a lot of things swirling he either couldn't recognize or couldn't express. Sometimes he'd wish the rumors were true and that he didn't have any fucking emotions. Things would be so much more simplistic then. 

"Look i know you don't want to talk. But then at least listen."

Alistair continued while he dared to walk a little closer. It only made Geralt grit his teeth.

"So you can lie to me some more?"

Geralt turned to Alistair with an angry look. The other raised a brow.

"Now hold on. When have i ever lied to you? I didn't do it then and i won't do it now."

"You said you saw the white horse"

"And i did. Any man can look into a puddle and see his own reflection on the surface no matter what form it takes. I don't need to leave my body to see myself for what i am."

Geralt wanted to reply to that, but he bit his tongue. Because it made sense. Fucking water spirit or what ever the hell he was... he was right. So he brought it further back to the time when they first met.

"And the fishers town?"

Alistair shook his head.

"I told you, you left me on the riverbank. And you did, You took off running. You just didn't know it was me."

Geralt had no more replies to give. Again Alistair was right, but that didn't mean that all was forgiven. Geralt still hated it. So he resorted to a displeased grunt as form of reply.

"Hmm"

Geralt turned away, still angry and bitter. Despite the fact that Alistair was right about not lying. He did with hold the truth. Which was actually a different form of lying. So perhaps he didn't lie in words. But there were things that he should have said that now drove a wedge between them.

"I wanted to tell you. I just..."

Alistair sighed.

"You're a witcher. There were at least a dozen reasons telling you was not a good idea."

Geralt paused. Again, there was the truth. And he knew he couldn't argue. But not telling him had also almost gotten Alistair killed. And He would be the one swinging the sword. He didn't want to do that again. He didn't want to repeat what happened with Renfri. He didn't want Alistair to become a second Renfri. Geralt wasn't sure if he could live with that kind of guilt. 

"Not telling me nearly got you killed. With me being the one to kill you. Not a thing i want to have on my conscious just because you forgot to put up a fucking notice."

"Alright fair enough. But that would have been my fault. Not yours."

"How can it not be my fault if i'm the one holding the sword?"

Alistair frowned at Geralt as if he searched for something. Then he replied with words that would haunt Geralt for days to come.

"Because sometimes, even if you think you have a choice, you don't. It was never your choice in the first place, but the choice of someone else that forced the outcome into your hands."

Geralt wasn't sure what Alistair was talking about. Whether it was his own past, or if he just took a peek into Geralt's head and caught him thinking about what happened in Blaviken. Either way, the words hit home and it made Geralt even more determined to ride out of here. He got up on Roach and tried to get her to start walking, but Roach scraped a hoof and refused.

"Roach. Don't do this."

Geralt pleaded. But she was stubborn and put her hoof down. She whinnied and turned her head to Alistair. The man walked closer and petted her velvet nose softly. 

"Don't worry about the Bard, girl. I'm sure out of all of us he's the one with the least of problems right now. He'll be alright."

She pushed her head against Alistair and the man sighed.

"I know. But i can't come with you. He needs time."

A sad neighing followed but Roach finally seemed ready to get going. Geralt didn't say goodbye. He didn't say anything at all and he didn't wait for Jaskier. He had to leave. He had to silence this storm inside. _I'm not running._ He told himself. _Witchers don't run_. 

"Come on Roach"

He put her in motion and rode out of town. Leaving both Alistair and the Bard behind. 

* * *

Jaskier had slept soundly, exhausted from mere shock of the revelation from the day before. It was so fresh in his mind that he dreamed about it even. Nothing could have prepared him for the initial shock of knowledge though. When he had turned to the horse he was trying to defend he had watched with his own eyes as it now held a human form in it's place. The bard had stumbled back a step or two and dumbfounded spoken to the Witcher. _Geralt.... Alistair IS the white horse._ It had come out more as a question then a statement because he simply couldn't fathom how this happened or why. He didn't understand at all! And from the looks of it, neither could Geralt. The witcher had not been pleased at all. Certainly not after he nearly killed the horse- pardon, nearly killed Alistair. 

The bard slept restlessly and when he finally woke, both the other bed and the place by the fire were empty. He sat up in bed with a jolt. Looking around. Geralt's things were gone too. Hastily he tried to make himself decent and run out of the house, nearly bumping into Alistair who stood looking at the empty road. 

"whoa! oh! Alistair! Good, i was worried for a sec- Where's Geralt?"

The man sighed and nodded his head to the distance. 

"You just missed him. He rode out of town."

Jaskier let his arms drop by his side. Instant disappointment hit him full force. 

"Great. Just great! He just... He just rode of. He forgot about me. NOBODY FORGETS JASKIER!"

He shouted to the distance hurling a pebble to the empty road in frustration. 

"That man is a menace. He's the grumpiest soul in all the continent and he just leaves whenever he pleases! With no regard for-"

Jaskier ranted but Alistair did not react. Which made Jaskier pause and look at the man.

"Alistair?"

"I hurt him."

"Who Geralt? Pff. I don't think anyone is capable of hurting his feelings. The other way around however, he's VERY prominent in hurting one's feelings."

Alistair sighed and walked back into the house. Jaskier followed him still yawning a bit from waking up early in the morning. Frowning as he saw Alistair started to pack.

"Wait... You're leaving?"

Alistair paused and looked up. 

"No. We're leaving."

"Oh good because i thought we could- Wait what?"

"I've spend a few months travelling with Geralt. I suppose it's your turn town. Besides... There's nothing left for me here. I've cured these people. The Bruxa and the illness are both gone. The crops are healthy and so are their livestock. There is no more need for my help. And i could use a change of scenery after all that... I hope you don't mind?"

Did Jaskier mind travelling with such a handsome (and not to mention magical) companion? Of course not! This was also a perfect way to get to know Alistair of Dalmar a little better. Perhaps even poke him for information about his kind. And what else he could do besides healing and turning into a white horse. Which, might be convenient sometimes if they would have to make a quick escape. (possibly after Jaskier slept in the wrong bed one too many times) 

"I'd love to travel with you! Where do you want to go?"

Jaskier tried not to sound too excited. But he was pretty sure he failed. Alistair smiled but he shook his head.

"Wherever you want. It's all fine with me."

Jaskier gained a big grin and while he tried to contain his excitement his stomach growled and he replied.

"Good. yeah. great. Love this plan. Could we get breakfast first?"

* * *

Since that incident in a nameless shit hole of a town and that disaster with almost killing Alistair, Geralt had been stewing in his own bitterness for the better of six months. Contracts were few and far and he passed at least a dozen of these shit holes that were towns too small to remember the name of. He had rode into such a town three days ago and moved straight for the whore house in frustration for the lack of kills and the lack of companions on the road. But he'd rather fight three fully grown manticores then admit he missed both Jaskier and Alistair on his travels. It had been a long time since he had the company of another warm body in his bed, so when this woman proposed him he didn't refuse. It came with a nice room since she worked in a brothel. Since he had little else to do, he could let his wounds heal. The physical ones of the last hunt he went on, and the mental ones that nagged at him that he was going soft for slowly becoming used to travelling in company instead of alone. Usually Geralt wouldn't spend three days in the same shit hole. But he found that with wine and women for company his mind wouldn't constantly drift towards the people he left behind. So he accepted the woman's proposition and shut himself in a room with her the next three days. 

And then he was proven wrong.

The woman he spend his time in bed with seemed familiar with a whole set of songs composed and sung by a bard rising in fame for creating that fucking 'toss a coin to your witcher' ballad. Of course now Jaskier had material enough from Geralt's monster hunts and the mystery villages Alistair took under his hands, he shook one song after another out of his sleeves it seemed and the people just devoured them like they were starved for it. Far and wide people started humming familiar tunes and Geralt half wondered if the rising fame would cause Jaskier even more problems, and the other half tried to convince him he didn't fucking care. Which was a complete and utter lie. In all this time the bitter feeling hadn't left him. And if he thought about Jaskier and Alistair travelling together, (which he definitely did not do every night) his mood hit an all time low and not even wine and women would improve his mood much. 

He felt like he was merely existing now. After having lived a little with the never ending blabbering of a Bard and the quiet conversations between his horse and the helper, being on the road without them felt bland. Not even peaceful as he had expected it to be. Sighing he let the woman he laid in bed with run her fingers across his scars and sing bits and pieces of the songs Jaskier composed for them. He still preferred Jaskier's voice but would never admit he wasn't as opposed to the songs as some might think. Then she came across the scar just above his knee, close to his thigh. She seemed surprised he would have one there, but then again, sometimes wounds just came in awkward places, intentional or no. This one however, it brought him back to the fight in Blaviken. And when she asked him who would rob him of his treasure, the word laid bitter on his tongue.

"Princess"

He muttered. Renfri. Her brooch reminded him every single time when he drew his sword that he was made only to kill monsters and shouldn't meddle in human affairs. It never ended well. But then again, was he really to blame for what happened in Blaviken? He made a choice. _And you'll never know if it was the right one..._ He heard the words in his mind so clearly, in a mix of Renfri's and Stregobor's voices. But then following those voices he heard something else, something that haunted him from the moment the words settled in his mind. _sometimes, even if you think you have a choice, you don't. It was never your choice in the first place, but the choice of someone else that forced the outcome into your hands._ It made him question everything that happened in Blaviken. The same as it made him question everything that happened when he tried to kill the White Horse. Alistair took the blame on himself when Geralt admitted to almost choosing to kill his friend. Even if he didn't know it was Alistair, it had been his choice, until Alistair claimed otherwise. Then had it really been his choice to kill Renfri? Or was that the wizard who pushed him to do it? Geralt didn't know. He would never know. All he knew was the pain that followed those choices. Whether he had been free to choose them or not. He hated himself for it either way.

"Were you in love? What was her name?"

The whore asked him. Honestly, love... was a difficult word. It didn't mean for Geralt what it meant for other people. Had he cared for Renfri in the brief moment that he knew her? Yes he had. But had it been love? That he could not say. It wasn't so simple to just give it a name. Especially when one didn't feel things the same as other people. He had felt for her, cared for her, but even if she had lived, he couldn't have stayed with her. So maybe it wasn't love. Maybe it was something else. And maybe he just didn't want to answer the question. Because it hurt. Because it reminded him of how it felt when her life slipped away along with those feelings. That pain stabbing at him was unpleasant. And not the first time or the last he felt it either. And so it prompted him to say:

"When you live as long as i do, all names start to sound the same."

It was a lie. It was a defense, quick to break off the offense. The attack on those emotions deep inside that he couldn't properly sort out. How could you sort out a thing you couldn't even give a name? It was difficult. Geralt disliked anything more difficult then it needed to be. Monsters were easy. Contracts were easy. Get paid or get killed. Simple. Cruelly simple. But that was the way he had always lived. After Kaer Morhen that was all he knew. That was his past, present and future. That was supposed to be all there was to it. But then again, it never remained just that, did it? His reply seemed to have put the whore in a sour mood as she drew back from him to drown her sorrows in wine. Fuck. Now he was spoiling that too. When would the twins that bore all evil leave him alone? Fate and Destiny were probably laughing themselves to death witnessing him wallowing in bitterness and misery and confusion only to sink further down that pit, realizing that it effected his life and put everyone at a distance. 

"Were destiny a kinder bitch a whore like me wouldn't have to settle for her clients tell tales."

She nearly spat out the words. Geralt couldn't blame her. He felt it. The anger, the disappointment. All of it. 

"A friend of yours came through here last month. Headed for Temeria."

Oh dear gods. If she meant who he thought she'd meant he would sink deeper into the bottle this night then he had planned to. He heard rumors of a bard travelling with a fellow with absurd long hair. Apparently the two were quite the duo. And every time he heard such rumors about Jaskier and Alistair he only felt worse for leaving them to each other's company while shutting himself out. And yet, he wasn't quite sure what he would do or how he would feel if he saw Alistair again. 

"Friend?"

He mumbled. Trying to imagine what he would say, what he would do. Or if he would let Alistair speak and either ignore him or run away from him again. _No. I don't run._ Yes he kept trying to tell himself that. 

"Another Witcher."

Suddenly all of his thoughts came to a grinding halt. Whatever he was thinking about left him in an instant and he sat up in bed at the mention of another Witcher. They were far and few now and meeting one was as likely as three nightwraiths on a summers day. The whore started on about how she did her best to service him too but Geralt was interested in none of that.

"What's in Temeria?"

He asked. His mind suddenly sharp whereas minutes ago it had been dulled by wine. Yet never enough to get him to lower his guard completely. Now, he was fully focused, and the whore was very much displeased.

"Have you not been listening?"

"Shouldn't you know when someone is pretending?"

It would have earned him a smack in the face were it not that the owner of the establishment came knocking for payment that very moment. Which urged Geralt all the more to get her to tell him what she knew of this Witcher. And tell him she did.


	8. ask me not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jaskier asks Alistair about his true nature, the man gives no clear answer. But when the bard is threatened, he shows his wrath.

"Alistair? Alistair!"

Two hands firmly grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him to the water's surface aggressively while two blue orbs stared at him with shock.

"Hey what- Jaskier? What's going on?"

"What- WHAT's GOING ON?! You've been under water for the better part of half an hour! HALF AN HOUR. I thought you were dead!"

Alistair blinked, his hair dripping making ripples into the water while his lower half was still submerged and the upper half held up by a frantic bard. Slightly guilty Alistair brought a hand up to the bard's arms. 

"I'm sorry Jaskier. I was tired, i must have fallen asleep. I'm fine though, you can let go of me now."

"You fell a- you fell a-fucking-sleep! You nearly killed me. If you die Geralt will never let me hear the end of it."

"Jaskier"

"If i die he'll thank you for the silence. Don't you ever do that to me again. You blonde bastard. I should compose a song on how you-"

"Jaskier! You seem to keep forgetting i'm not human. Water doesn't kill me."

"I-... oh... But... You can breathe under water?"

"No. I'm not a fish. I don't have gills"

"Then how do you stay under so long without drowning?"

"I'm made of water and magic. I could stay under forever if i wanted to."

Jaskier narrowed his eyes and leaned over the tub, pinching Alistair in the shoulder.

"Ow! What-"

"Seems like flesh and bone to me."

Jaskier replied with a grin. Alistair glared with a grin and then slapped his hand on the water, covering Jaskier in droplets.

"oi not the doublet! i still need to perform in that. Have you no respect for the minstrel's art form you barbarian."

"You seemed to have ruined that already by grabbing me before taking it off. Such concern you have for me rather than your clothes."

Alistair pointed out the soaked sleeves and Jaskier sighed, unbuttoning the drenched fabric and hanging it over a chair. They had gotten quite comfortable with each other quickly travelling together for three months. Jaskier sang his songs and ever so often added a new one and the people loved him. Alistair helped people in need here and there, but decided not to settle in a village anymore. At least for now. He was quiet and preserved about anything to do with what happened back in that village. And Jaskier hadn't seen his white horse form again, save once. When he went away only to come back with a lost little girl on his back, calmly walking her home to where she was missed. The parents mistakenly thanked Jaskier and paid him but when he had wanted to decline the white horse nuzzled him as a sign of consent and they went on their way after that. 

"That is entirely your fault you know. I really thought you had drowned. Humans can't fall asleep in the tub or they'll die. Sorry for assuming that your bodily functions operate the same way."

He feigned insult and added theatrics and Alistair chuckled and shook his head. 

"You're impossible."

"I am what i am. Bard Extraordinare. And Valdo Marx can suck my cock for saying otherwise."

Alistair snorted.

"You really don't like him."

"Don- Don't _like_ him he says. That horrendous son of a boar dares to claim MY masterpiece a whore of songs! A bitch born born to please crowds and nothing more! That it would be the only child i would ever bring into this world to MY misfortune?! HA! Just because it's more popular then any of his rat screeching ever will be. The man can swallow all his rubbish back down and choke on it."

"I could go drown him for you."

"Let him be felled by the plague and- wait you would?"

"Preferably not. But i'd make an exception for you."

"If you were not my very best friend in the whole wide world already, i'd name you that just for the offer!"

"Best friend? What about the Witcher?"

Silence fell for a moment. 

"What about him? He left, plain and simple. He doesn't consider us 'friends'. The white wolf has no friends."

"And yet, if you'd meet him again. Would you follow him?"

Alistair looked up. Jaskier gazed in those silver eyes and he wished to the gods he could deny it. But he knew Alistair would see the truth. The bastard always knew when he was lying. It was becoming a rather annoying habit of his.

"Yeah... yes I would. Gods help me, I'm attached to that grumpy bastard. There's just something about him that-... well... it's difficult to explain."

Jaskier sulked and stalked over to the other side of the room to get a comb. It had become a bit of a routine that whenever Alistair's hair needed tending, Jaskier would grab a comb and work on it. Simply because the bard loved to do it and because he was amazed every time again. He had never met someone with such long hair. Let alone a man. And yes he did forget from time to time, even despite these signs, the hair and the silver eyes, that Alistair was not exactly human. But the bard cared little for that. He pulled up a stool next to the bath and found Alistair had flipped his hair over the edge. It was already dry while being in the water moments before. Jaskier had also never seen Alistair dry off. It must be another one of the things native to his species. Although Jaskier still did not know what that species exactly was.

"What about you? What if you met Geralt of Rivia again?"

The bard asked while running a comb through Alistair's long hair. Carefully and painlessly straightening the long strands to smooth perfection. 

"I would apologize."

"Again? I thought you did. He's the one who needs to apologize for storming off like that."

"I know. But it keeps bugging me. The way he left i... We traveled together for a few months. Even if he won't admit to being friends, there was a bond between us. A bond i broke. Because i broke his trust. I would ask for a chance to regain that trust. I would do anything to be his friend again. Even if he won't admit vocally that we are."

Jaskier sighed to the answer.

"You and me both."

Alistair looked up at him, curious. And Jaskier felt the need to defend himself for his reply.

"Well it's not as if i'm some magical creature but he still refuses to call me a friend! I would want to know what i can do for him to admit it to me. That we're friends. That we're.... something."

He groaned out in frustration. Suddenly he didn't feel like performing in the tavern tonight. There was a hollow feeling rising in his stomach. One that Alistair understood and perhaps even shared.

"Never going to happen."

Alistair snorted but there was a serious regretful undertone to his joke. Jaskier tried to shake the thought by humming. Working his fingers through Alistair's hair. His eyes falling to the black fiddle in the corner.

"Alistair? I meant to ask you. Why don't you ever play?"

Alistair turned his head to the fiddle. He seemed to be in thought and it took him a bit to respond. But then he sighed and leaned back in the tub a little.

"It's not safe. I don't have the power to control its effects that well. Usually me playing ends up in someone drowning. I'd rather not risk it."

Jaskier frowned.

"How does you playing fiddle end up in someone drowning? That doesn't make sense."

"It does if you are what i am. Music is part of my power. Like water."

There it was again. Jaskier never asked. He knew better then to ask. Because anything related to what Alistair was, he usually kept hidden well. Once he said he was afraid of being called monster. Jaskier had laughed but the laughing had stopped when Alistair warned him that the bard hadn't seen him at his worst. Till this day that still held true. The bard tried to ignore it, but his own curiosity pressed forward so hard he had no choice but to ask.

"I... I don't mean to be rude. But.. You never actually told me... What _are_ you?"

Alistair turned around in the water. Silver eyes gazing at Jaskier while the other still held on to the long hair to keep it from falling in the water again.

"Give me time. And i will tell you. When i'm ready. But ask me three times. And i will show you."

Jaskier frowned and let the words roll in his head. But then he decided he was alright with that.

"Okay."

He finished Alistair's hair and tied it neatly into a low ponytail before deciding that he liked it better in a braid and he loosened the strands to braid the long hair and tie it off at the end. He smiled at his handy work and then walked over to his doublet to see if it had yet dried. It hadn't. 

"Oh dear. So close to my performance and i have yet to decide what to wear now this blasted thing is ruined."

Alistair got up and climbed out of the bath. Wrapping a towel around his waist and walking up to his own clothes. Jaskier did his best not to peek but it was pretty hard when he shared a room with one so gorgeous. Like his hair though, Alistair's skin dried in a matter of seconds. All the water droplets being absorbed and vanishing into his skin. It was a pretty neat trick that Jaskier sometimes was jealous of. 

"Wear the blue one."

The man said. Jaskier sighed and pulled it out along with a new outfit he had recently purchased.

"That old thing? But it's not special."

"I like that one."

Jaskier turned his head to narrow his eyes at Alistair for any ulterior motives. But Alistair ignored it and dressed himself in his usual clothing. Earth colored breeches, shirt and vest, Blue sash with lily crest attached to it. The difference was his hair. Now that it hung in a braid that Jaskier was rather proud of it seemed to make him a little more.... Oh what was the word for it? Never mind. Alistair seemed to like that one and Jaskier could hardly refuse such knowledge.

"Blue it is."

 _Because you like it._ Jaskier smiled to himself as he changed into the blue outfit. Doing his best to give it his usual flare. He turned to Alistair when he had everything pulled together and spread his arms.

"How do i look?"

Something flickered in Alistair's eyes. It could very well have been the bard's imagination. But it was worth investigating. The man stepped closer and adjusted the neck of Jaskier's doublet for him.

"Like bait on a hook. It brings out your eyes."

For a moment they stood there in silence. Too close for comfort, just gazing into each other's eyes. Jaskier leaned in but was stopped by his own lute being pressed into his hands. 

"Your audience awaits."

Alistair told him with a smile. Playing off the disappointment with a laugh Jaskier nodded and added:

"Let's not forget the swooning maidens."

* * *

The tavern seemed packed. Alistair had to wrestle his way through the crowd with an ale to get to a free spot to sit if there was any. Luckily everyone always seemed to forget about a particular corner. It was odd that despite travelling without Geralt, both he and Jaskier still had a habit of taking a table in the corner. Because that's where the Witcher liked to sit. He found a spot and settled with a drink while he watched Jaskier perform and play all the crowds favorites. Sometimes twice if they roared up loud enough to boost the euphoria of being so loved. Times were changing in that aspect. The bard no longer had food thrown at him but coin and handkerchiefs of wanting women. Alistair smiled as he watched Jaskier play. Enjoying the performance even if he heard the songs in every town they passed. It was the mere sight of seeing Jaskier doing what he loved that made Alistair keen on seeing him perform. The smiles and the happiness radiating from the bard during these performances brought a warmth in the man. And yet, when Jaskier sung of the tales of the white wolf, Geralt of Rivia, a part of Alistair missed the witcher.

After a loud roar of the crowd, coins being tossed and fishermonger being called for, Jaskier brought his fingers to the strings of his lute one more time and started to play. Alistair snorted and shook his head. Wanting to take another sip of his ale when... Something made him pause. It was this eerie feeling creeping up on him. As it did whenever something bad was about to happen. He could feel it. Ill intent. Something of a rotten motive. A blackness around someone's heart. Someone in the tavern. Alistair set his ale down and tried to focus on the feeling. He closed his eyes to try and sense where the feeling was coming from. What darkness pressed into his mind from somewhere in the room. But there was too much noise, too much movement, he couldn't pinpoint it. He tried harder, but the feeling was fading. Ebbing away before he could get a grasp on it. Sighing Alistair opened his eyes only to discover that the song had ended. People were talking loudly, laughing and talking and bragging with drunk stories. Jaskier was no longer playing. In fact, he wasn't in the tavern anymore.

Alistair quickly downed the last of his ale and paid the tavern owner on his way out. Searching for a sign of the bard. He couldn't have gone far. Jaskier was too obnoxious to just vanish without a trace. Too loud, too heavy footed. In the mud there were hundreds of footprints. Had Alistair been an ordinary man, the right set would be impossible to track. But he could pick them out from the rest quite easily with his sight and followed them. They were accompanied by a set of smaller footprints. Female. Possibly a wanting maiden. If that were so and Alistair would see the bard was safe, then he would return to the inn and wait for the bard there. But that feeling from earlier in the tavern came back again. And grew stronger. Alistair regretted not having his fiddle on him. What he did have however was his crest. His Lily crest. Though he prayed he wouldn't have to use it. Such power drew attention. From more then just humans. 

He walked until he came across an alley and immediately caught a form clad in blue in the shadows of the houses. Jaskier was cornered, A band of rogues surrounded him. One was plucking non too gently or carefully at the strings of Jaskier's lute and laughed. Another had his purse of coins in hand, counting through his earnings, A third held him against the wall with a knife to his throat while two more stood back and watched, laughing. Judging from the tracks leading out of the alley, the woman Jaskier had walked with had ran. Alistair wasn't quite sure of her role. Maybe she was an unsuspecting victim, maybe she led the bard into this trap. Either way, she was gone and here he stood with these five men to deal with. 

"Please, not the lute. You can take the coin, it's all i have! It's a very delicate instrument, don't-"

Jaskier's voice was cut off by a gruff one of the one holding him.

"This pissy little bastard thinks we're after his coin. Well finders keepers of course, but we're here send by Lord Saffry to teach you a lesson. Should've been more careful, fleeing from the Lady's bedchambers like that. Defiling the honor of the lord's sister. He likes to have a word with you, but if you resist, we can do whatever we like."

Alistair slowly walked closer. One of the men standing by noticed him and drew a sword. Alistair looked from him to the one holding Jaskier at a knife's edge and then back at the one who drew his sword.

"Is there a problem here?"

Alistair asked calmly. The one who drew his sword stepped a bit closer and pointed the thing at Alistair's chest.

"This is none of your business stranger. Move along."

Alistair shook his head.

"Whatever the bard did. Surely there's no need for violence?"

Jaskier looked up with pleading eyes. Alistair was only going to get himself into trouble like this. And yet, looking into those silver eyes, the bard felt safe. Like he was no longer held with a knife to his throat. He trusted Alistair would get him out of here safely. 

"He fancied himself into the bed of our Lord's sister. He must pay the price for it. His cock on a silver platter."

The leader sneered. Alistair's friendly demeanor suddenly vanished. It melted like snow in the spring sun. His face contorted into a twist of anger and his eyes began to storm. Jaskier had never seen him change moods so quickly. And he gaped at the sight with open mouth, out of pure fascination. Alistair's voice dropped an octave and brought with it a rumble of something unearthly. A twisted sound as if his voice had gained an echo.

"I will give you a fair warning, but i will only tell you once. Let the bard go, and no harm will come to you. Hurt him, and you will suffer."

"Fuck off"

The leader spat and the one who drew a sword before rushed forward to attack Alistair. The man raised a hand and slapped the man aside like a bug. The impact of his body against the wall made a sickening cracking sound and the man opened his mouth to scream in pain, yet no sound ever came out. Instead he struggled to breathe. Alistair's eyes began to glow, it's silver color fading into a blinding white. His blonde hair color twisted into a faded form of green that became brighter lower in the strands. The lily crest around his waist seemed to come to life as it opened and from it, green lily vines crept under the hem of his shirt and crawled out at the sleeves. 

"What the- Kill it!"

The leader yelled. The one who had held the coins and the second bystander both ran at him at the same time, swords drawn. Alistair stepped aside to simply evade their strike and grabbed both of them by the neck. The lily vines rapidly spread over their bodies, twisting and turning, plunging in their veins and tightening around their throats. Effectively cutting off all air. The one who had been thrown against the wall made a weak attempt to reach them but soon met the same fate as Alistair pushed him back against the wall. The man screamed in silence as lilies rose from his throat and suffocated him. The one who had toyed with Jaskier's Lute dropped the instrument, which was caught in lily vines inches above the ground. Saved by Alistair's power. The man tried to run but as soon as his boots hit a puddle in the road, lilies shot up and tied themselves around his legs, dragging him back to their source, they pushed his head into the puddle and he kicked and trashed until his oxygen ran out and the water from the puddle entered his lungs. 

Jaskier stared at the display wide eyed. Realizing fully well that Alistair had just managed to drown a man in water barely a thumb deep. He had never seen this nor expected his friend to be capable of such violence. And yet Jaskier couldn't bring himself to be afraid of this power. The leader yelled and hacked at the lilies with his sword and knife. Alistair had walked up to him and cornered him and with a single hand around the man's throat, forced him on his knees. The strength displayed in Alistair made Jaskier shiver. Alistair squeezed and the man gurgled as lilies started to grow in his throat. Jaskier bit his lip. The man had threatened to cut off his jewels and yes he wanted him dead, but he could also see that this was doing something to Alistair. The longer this went on, the darker Alistair started to look. His skin even began to turn grey. It had to stop. Besides, if they all died, who was going to tell this pompous ass of a lord that Jaskier was off limits? 

The bard walked closer. Daring to carefully step between the slithering lilies and gently put a hand on Alistair's arm. 

"Alistair. I'm alright. I'm safe."

The creature hissed and squeezed harder.

"He was going to-.."

He didn't finish the words but Jaskier understood.

"I know. But he didn't. I'm safe and i'm unharmed. But you're killing him. And i know that is not what you want. You have to let him go."

The creature turned it's head and through it's glowing white eyes, Jaskier could see a part of that softness return that usually shone in Alistair's eyes. He could also see a form of recognition and under his hand he could feel the grip of the arm holding the thug weaken. Jaskier nodded to him. The creature looked back to the man before him and hissed but finally drew back his arm just in time. The lilies disappeared from the man's throat and he coughed and sputtered, gasping for breath. Instead Jaskier took him by the hem of his shirt to look him in the eye. 

"Tell your lord that i did nothing his sister didn't want me to and that if he decides to go after me for revenge, he has to bare in mind i am well protected."

The man nodded fearfully and scrambled away as soon as Jaskier let go of his clothing. He looked up at Alistair who had changed back to his old self but looked numb and empty. The hollow look in his eyes made Jaskier want to hug him. But if they stayed here any longer, they would be discovered. 

"Alistair, We have to go. Come on."

Alistair did not move. He trembled. Staring into the distance while he mumbled.

"I killed them."

Jaskier gathered his lute, the coin and then took Alistair by the hand. 

"If you hadn't they would have killed me. Or worse. You did what you had to. To protect me. Come."

The bard quickly pulled Alistair out of the alley leaving the corpses of the dead men. All the lilies had vanished but the scent lingered. The bard tried to pay no mind to it as he dragged Alistair along with him all the way back to the inn. When the door closed behind them, finally he felt like he could breathe. Yet his breath was stolen when a firm set of lips covered his own and a set of cool hands cupped his cheeks. 

In all honesty the kiss didn't surprise him. He and Alistair had been dancing around this certain tension between them for weeks. And Jaskier was open and fully interested. Yet it was always Alistair who stopped anything from happening. Now Jaskier could understand a little of why. He kissed back, grabbing the lapels of Alistair's vest but when he wanted to reach for the hem, the man stopped him. They stood there, panting, breathing each other's air. Heads leaning together.

"I can't."

Alistair whispered softly. It sounded like something inside him broke and Jaskier only wanted to hold him closer for it.

"I'm sorry Jaskier. It's not that i don't want to. I just... Can't."

"Because of... What just happened?"

Alistair sighed and he looked up. His eyes once again that beautiful silver that Jaskier had come to know and love. 

"It's... complicated. Even after what you just saw... You still don't know what you are dealing with. You still haven't seen me at my worst."

Jaskier looked up, his eyes impossibly blue with all these emotions swirling in them. But above all the hope that Alistair can trust him and get closer to him.

"Then tell me. Show me."

"I don't want to lose you"

"I'm not afraid of you Alistair."

"I can't Jaskier. I can't. Not yet."

Jaskier wanted to ask. The words were on the tip of his tongue. But he bit them back down. He wouldn't force Alistair to show him now if he wasn't ready. But he wished the man would trust him. What he just saw in the alley was nothing short of amazing. Terrifying to some maybe, but Jaskier had been travelling with Geralt before and had seen his fair share of horrors. This, he couldn't qualify as one. 

"Okay... Okay. We'll just... Keep travelling then. Let's leave this place."

To that, Alistair could agree.

* * *

Two months and three weeks followed. Jaskier didn't ask Alistair about what happened. And he didn't see that kind of power on display again. The only thing he had to make use of thrice was a quick escape on Alistair's horse form's back. To be fair it was his own doing. But who was able to resist all those willing arms (and legs) opening for him. The invitation to soft beds and warm bodies. The company. Alistair said nothing of it, and he didn't look like he disapproved of Jaskier's reckless and flirty nature. Faithfully he helped Jaskier escape each time the call came a little too close. Apart from that kiss they shared after Alistair had saved him. They shared only soft pecks on the cheek or on each other's heads as a sign of affection and close friendship. Neither of them had brought the kiss up and yet, things progressed naturally. They didn't feel the need to discuss it or give it a name. It happened. And nothing else had happened. And it was fine. Jaskier figured that once Alistair wanted something more, or was ready for something more, he would say so. At least the bard hoped that the message had come across well enough to let the other know the bard was open to such things. 

They had traveled quite a bit. And it had been almost six months since they parted ways with Geralt. And yet, they often talked about him. They missed him. And it so happened that Jaskier had heard a rumor that Geralt should be close. They both sat in their room. Jaskier played his lute and Alistair was polishing his bow. They were arguing back and forth over a subject that was the result of Jaskier's many affairs with married women no less. 

"No"

Alistair said firmly.

"Oh but come on! With the amount i spend making a quick escape it'll be much easier."

"I wouldn't have to come rescue you every time if you just remembered that married women are MARRIED and that it doesn't mean what you think it means."

"I can't help it if they fall for my charm and if i can make them happy where their husbands cannot. It's my blessing and my curse."

"Still, you are NOT putting a saddle on me."

"A bridle then?"

"No."

"But how will i hold on to my brave steed whisking me away to safety?"

"You were doing just fine holding onto my mane. I don't plan to keep doing this Jaskier. You should know better."

"And yet you can't bare to leave me to my fate. My faithful friend and rescuer. And i adore you for it. But i could fall off if i have to ride you bare!"

"I told you no. And lets ignore the fact that the last bit sounded like you want to bed me."

"I do want to bed you."

"You're very forward."

"You never complained."

"Jaskier."

Alistair glared and Jaskier threw his hands up.

"Alright alright! I give up. You win. Next time i will start this argument better prepared."

"If there is a next time."

"Booo. You're no fun. You remind me of this Witcher who's grumpy and who's only response is either 'Fuck' or 'hmm'."

Alistair snorted to Jaskier's grumbling and his dramatic pout. But then he paused. He usually turned a bit sad when Geralt was brought up in a conversation and Jaskier really couldn't take it any longer.

"Look. You are not the one that needs to apologize. He nearly killed you. It was a mistake, but it's over. He can't hold a grudge forever."

"It was my mistake Jaskier. I didn't tell him. So yes. I AM the one that needs to apologize. If i only knew how or where to begin."

"Begin in Temeria."

Alistair looked up with a frown and Jaskier rolled his eyes, put away his lute and sat on the bed in front of Alistair.

"I've heard this rumor. That there was a witcher going to Temeria to take care of a pest. He took the coin on offer and took off, no one has seen him since. I know it's not Geralt because he would never do such a thing the noble oaf. But if he hear the same rumor, that's where he's bound to go."

"Temeria's border is only a week's travel from here..." Alistair mumbled in thought, then he looked up. Jaskier nodded at him with a smile until Alistair shook his head.

"I can't go. You have that betrothal to play at and if the last few weeks were any indication then you can't go alone. They'll eat you alive. You're in enough trouble as it is."

Jaskier groaned and let his head drop before he looked back up.

"It's only a week. Maybe two at most. I will be fine."

"Define fine when you have no friend to defend you and no horse to escape on. No. I'm not going."

Jaskier pulled the bow from Alistair's hands and took them in his own.

"You're always telling me not to be stubborn-"

"-thickheaded, there's a difference-"

"- But right now you need to stop being so stubborn and go to him. The way you and Geralt parted... It's eating away at you Al. I can see it. Every time at the mere mention of his name there is a sadness that haunts you. And trust me i pay a ridiculous amount of attention to those beautiful eyes of yours. I should know."

Alistair sighed again and looked up. 

"Give me a day. I'll find someone who can accompany you. No matter what you say i'm not letting you go alone. But this person owes me a favor and looking after you for a week or two may settle the debt. Then i'll go to Temeria."

A wide grin spread across Jaskier's face and he leaned in, stealing a soft and short kiss from Alistair's lips.

"I knew you'd see it my way."


	9. Strigae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt runs into the last person he expected to see. He and Alistair meet Triss, who tells them of the real problem lingering in Temeria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mild gore in this chapter. I'll try not to go into too much details. But there is the mention of a dead witcher... If you've seen the show you know how bad it is.

_Temeria. Realm of monsters and cowardly kings._

The sign said it all. To know and realize that Temeria had a problem was an understatement. The whole kingdom was drenched in a stench of fear. Tension hung heavy in the air. And the feint scent of blood drifting over the frostbitten ground. Temeria laid in a foul winter. It had grown cold. Geralt's breath made little clouds as he made his way passed the border on foot. Forced to leave Roach behind in the care of the whorehouse owner. Geralt was pretty sure she scolded him when she tapped him with her nose and neighed displeased. She had been cross with him certain moments for six months now. Ever since they left Alistair and Jaskier behind. He grew tired of it. Tired of fighting against this feeling of bitterness he felt. Tired of trying to defend himself against his own horse. Tired of refusing to admit that how he rode off was nothing short of childish. He just had no way with words. Even if he could make up for it now. What would he say? _Sorry for being angry that i nearly stabbed you to death?_ Yeah.. Like that would work.

As he made his way underground towards the miners that had hired the first witcher. He faintly became aware of footsteps behind him. The frost in the air sharpened the scent of ice and dulled everything else. The wind was also against him. He couldn't really tell who was following him. But he tensed and he remained on guard. He needed more information. And the only way to get it was to go to the people who had hired the witcher who supposedly ran off with a heavy purse. Geralt didn't believe it. But if there was a different explanation, he also would find it once he got there. He became sensitive to the following footsteps. And by the time he rounded the first corner they were close enough. He turned around in a flash and had his stalker up against the wall.

"ooff. Hello to you too Geralt."

His blood froze over and the Witcher quickly withdrew himself from the man he had pressed up against the stone. For a second he falsely hoped that he was looking at a doppler, but the feint scent of lilies betrayed the person in front of him to be real. 

"Alistair. What the fuck are you doing here?"

The blonde dusted himself off and readjusted the strap of his satchel on his shoulder.

"Following the advice of a friend. I came here looking for you."

"hmm"

Geralt turned around. This was... uncomfortable. He had no idea what to say or what to do. Though he had to admit a part of him was relieved, even happy, to see Alistair after not having seen or talked to him for six months. The other part dreaded any conversation that would follow. 

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on Witchers."

He grumbled while he started walking again. Alistair tried not to sound amused but Geralt could hear it in his damn voice.

"Evidently not."

Geralt groaned at Alistair's wise cracking reply. It came to show that he had spend way too much time with the Bard. On that note... Where was Jaskier?

"Shouldn't you be helping the bard on his travels?"

"He is helping himself. To.. anything really. You know how he is. Last i saw him he was out there actually trying to help you. He's grown more popular. I'm sure you've heard."

 _Oh i've fucking heard. Took me three months to get that first song out of my head and now i hear the rest everywhere i go._ Geralt remained silent. But his thoughts replied for him. And yet he was prompted to ask.

"You left him on his own?"

"I left him in the capable hands of a friend of mine."

"Hmm... Human?"

"Close enough."

"Not human then."

"A doppler, if you're so keen on knowing. And this one's harmless. Trust me."

The last two words made Geralt stop in his tracks. He turned around. His amber eyes glowing gold as they bore into silver. Therein laid the entire problem. His scowl did nothing to push the man before him back in his steps. Alistair simply stood there while Geralt glared at him. He didn't recoil, nor did he go on the offense to defend his own actions. He simply waited. It was infuriating. 

"I can't."

Geralt replied. Two words he wished he hadn't said, because as soon as they left him he could see a hint of pain sprint passed those silver eyes. Disappearing as quickly as it had come. But it was clear enough to show that he had hurt Alistair. Well fuck..

The blonde in front of him opened his mouth to reply, but their attention was drawn towards voices, and both decided to quietly go and attend the gathering that took place around the corner. Geralt sat down on a chest while Alistair quietly stood beside him and they both followed the conversation held in front of them.

"Years of attacks by this creature, and the king does nothing..."

It was a debate over whether they would refuse to work, move south of Sodden for other work and leave the kingdom, or rise up in a riot and punish the king for doing nothing while his people suffer. All three options would each have their effect on the already suffering kingdom. Geralt had to stop himself from snorting. Humans were so quick to resort to violence. In their eyes it solved everything. But it was often the worst of roads to travel. Geralt knew that better then anyone. Next to him Alistair was quiet. It was strange to once again have him there. Geralt was aware of his presence and at the same time, he tried to pay no attention to it. Instead he focused on the workers. Almost mocking them for their violent plan before he caught himself in time to keep himself from instigating.

"You can't kill the Vukodlak... So you decide to kill your king? Great plan."

Geralt could _feel_ Alistair tense beside him. Yet still the man said nothing. Instead the workers seemed to respond exactly how Geralt had imagined after the story of the previous witcher running out on them.

"Another Fucking Witcher."

One of the leaders spat. Others threw gobs of spit on the ground in distaste for his presence. Truth be told it was nothing Geralt wasn't used to. 

"Your kind already swindled us once."

For a moment Geralt thought they had either chosen to ignore Alistair's presence, or they confused him for a second witcher. Either way they paid no attention to him. Geralt remained unimpressed by these miners. And all he did was to throw an offer on the table for the thing he had decided he had come to do. 

"I take payment, after the job is done. And for a third of the price. An apology... From my guild, to yours."

The miners looked at one another. 

"What about him?"

The leader pointed towards Alistair. The man crossed his arms.

"Not a witcher. Not here for the coin."

Few words, but each rang true. Although it made Geralt wonder what exactly Alistair came for. Usually there was an ulterior motive. Even if he said he came looking for Geralt. Surely he must have felt some need coming from this place and went for that? If he didn't, Geralt wasn't sure what Alistair wanted from him. If it was an apology for the way Geralt stormed off, he was in for a long wait. 

The miner turned back to Geralt.

"And if you can't kill it?"

The witcher almost shrugged. The answer was plain and simple even if it wasn't a nice one.

"Then i die."

He had expected some form or reply from Alistair. But the man once again pleaded silence. It gave the miners chance to exchange looks. And yet before they could come to a decision, a group of soldiers came marching into the hall. The tension rose up quick. Geralt could smell it on them. Alistair silently witnessed the exchange between the commander of the soldiers and the leader of the miners. It was not pleasant. And the air was so thick you could almost take a bite right out of the conflict. It made Alistair uncomfortable. The subtle shift in his position let Geralt know just that. It almost rounded out into a fight but luckily, the commander was wise enough to halt his soldiers and prevent a frontal attack. The tension left with the miners who after protest left for their homes as the commander had asked them to. Alistair took a deep breath but instead of following the miners out to their homes, he stayed with Geralt. So he did come all this way just to find him? 

"Does king Foltest have a plan?"

Alistair asked the commander. It earned him a sneer and once again he was confused for another Witcher. Even though there was a clear difference in his appearance and that of an actual witcher. He seemed to be called whatever people found most threatening. Sometimes a mage, other times a witcher. With his appearance that wasn't odd. But he never actually stepped in to say what he actually was. He always merely denied being what they called him. At least no one had called him a monster yet. The commander of the soldiers didn't seem much interested in conversation however. And instead of replying Alistair he took one look at him and Geralt both and sneered.

"See these two to our borders." The commander concluded. "Temeria has had her fill... of Witchers."

This time, Alistair said nothing.

* * *

While they were escorted by four horsemen, two at the front and two at the back, Geralt turned to Alistair who was walking beside him.

"So you didn't come here for a need?"

Alistair looked at him, then back to the road and after a moment of silence he replied.

"I told you. I came here looking for you."

Again silence fell between them Geralt puzzled in his head but he couldn't make much sense of it. So all he could do was ask.

"Why?"

At the very least he thought he ruined it all by riding off the way he did. But then again he had underestimated Jaskier's stubbornness before. Perhaps Alistair was of the same making. He did have a knack for attracting the peculiar types. Or at least the types that puzzled him more then the entirety of the human race combined. The difficult types so to speak. 

"I wanted to apologize"

The answer took him by surprise. Geralt glanced to the side. A strange and twisting feeling hit him. That was perhaps the third time Alistair tried to apologize for something that Geralt initially thought was his fault. The witcher hadn't kept count but it just amazed him again how different Alistair was. And personality wise that had little to do with the fact that he wasn't human.

"hmm"

He had no reply to that. He couldn't find the right words. He didn't even know what to say. What could he say? _Six months, half way across the continent for a fucking apology? Why? Why apologize if it wasn't your fault. Why look for me when i'm the one who rode off? What do i do with this information?_ Most of all Geralt was confused by this feeling that he had, which felt like he both wanted to punch Alistair and give him a hug at the same time. 

A thud drew their attention and as they both turned around, the two back riders slid off their horses and fell to the ground unconscious. Geralt turned to the front riders but they were in the same state. They both fell off their horses with a thud. The witcher turned his golden eyes to Alistair but he held up his hands.

"Don't look at me like that. I didn't do it."

Geralt drew his sword as a reflex. 

"Stay close."

Alistair drew an arrow on his bow and turned around to look in several directions. The cover of darkness didn't exactly allow them to look far. Even with their enhanced sight. The horses neighed with discomfort but they didn't run. They just trotted off to a patch beside the road further on. Geralt stood facing one side of the road, Alistair stood to the other. He put a hand on the witcher's shoulder softly warning him of a presence.

"Geralt"

The witcher turned around to see a cloaked figure approaching. It was a woman. Or more accurately, a witch.

"You can put down your weapons. I'm not here to hurt you." She said.

"Says the witch hiding in the woods." Geralt replied with a gruff voice full of annoyance. Oh he hated these tricksters. He hated anything meant to mislead. That and elaborate schemes. 

"Sorceress" She insisted.

"Witch" Geralt argued.

"Geralt, She's telling the truth. She bares no ill will." Alistair lowered his bow and took the arrow off of it. While Geralt wondered how Alistair could tell. But then again he had witnessed this sixth sense before. Back in the village where Alistair turned into a horse. He had sensed the evil clouding the villagers, making them sick and killing them. If he couldn't sense that on this Witch then either he was right and she wanted to do no harm, or she hid it well enough to keep Alistair from sensing anything at all. Either option kept Geralt on his toes. 

"Tris Merigold. I serve king Foltest."

Geralt scoffed. "So he makes a show out of kicking me out... then sends his errand girl to slip me some coin so i kill his monster."

Alistair turned his head to look at Geralt with a scolding in his eyes that said: _Am i invisible to you?_ But other than that he kept silent. 

"Not a very original plan for a king"

The witcher continued. Like other lords, barons, nobility and what not, Kings were keen on playing games. And Geralt would have nothing of it. He hated being manipulated like that. Especially since the whole Blaviken incident. Because ever since Alistair told him it may not have been his choice or a choice in general, he realized more and more events in his life where that may have applied as a rule. Being pushed into a spot he didn't want to be in. And he hated it so much. He wanted things simple. Kill a monster, get paid, sleep, eat, occasionally find a warm body to lay next to, rinse and repeat. All these back door dealings and games were a pain to deal with and there was only so much that could go right before it would go wrong.

"It's my plan. My coin."

She replied. Oh well... That explained it. Witches were no better. As conduits for chaos and wielders of magic they had even more tricks up their sleeves then ordinary humans. Never cross paths with a mage who had gotten bored. That rarely ended well. 

"And i don't want you to kill the beast. I want you to help me save it."

Wait...

What?

"Oh for the love of- I'm still here! Obviously i'm not going anywhere, So just tell me what is going on and i'll help." 

Alistair cut in and broke the lasting tension between Geralt and Triss. She turned to him and sized him up. Alistair did his best not to feel insulted. But it was a tad difficult with her judgmental gaze. She squinted at him. As if she felt something, but couldn't name what it was. 

"You're not a witcher."

Alistair sighed and admitted it.

"No, and i don't need to get paid. But i can help."

"It will be no easy feat."

"I know-"

"No."

They both turned to Geralt who stood there collecting his thoughts on the situation. 

"I don't like this backhand dealing and saving a creature is far more difficult then killing it. You should go."

Alistair sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"That is precisely the reason you shouldn't be doing this alone. Look. I said i came here to apologize. But you're right. That's not the only thing. I came here because i lost something and i need to earn it back. So we can stand here arguing all night or we can let Triss take us to the root of the problem so we can solve this."

Triss chuckled.

"I like him."

Or course she did. Everyone did. Except on these rare moments when Alistair had a point and the witcher wished he didn't. Then Geralt didn't like him so much. But only because he couldn't counter the argument and he hated it if others put themselves in harms way deliberately. Especially after everything that happened six months ago. Geralt groaned but in the end, he had no choice but to agree. He had been right all along, Alistair was as stubborn as the bard. 

* * *

Triss led them away to a set of underground tunnels. Passages that she used for research, spell and potion crafting and other things. Judging by the ingredients stocked in bottles and on shelves. It looked like an apothecary's laberatory. Until they walked further along the hall and it resembled more of a study. While they walked she told them the story of how all of this started. 

"Six years ago, stable hands started vanishing at the castle above the city. Before long citizens were disappearing throughout all Temeria. Foltest's royal guards soon realized the creature was coming from the crypt where the king's sister Adda is buried. Rumor has it she was having an affair with a young man in town when she died."

It sounded like the foul beginnings of every well known curse Geralt could possibly name. So many of these creatures came to be through the horrors of what had happened to the victims before death. All these wronged humans, so vengeful and bitter and chaotic that even after death some could still do damage. If the magic of their pain and torture, their agony took, then they twisted into wretched beings that often needed a witcher summoned to get rid of. The bestiary was full of these kind of beings. Tales of horror and wronged souls and curses were contracts in the making. And they were all too real. This one could be such a tale. But if it was such a curse, curing this creature could prove difficult.

"Was she pregnant?"

Geralt asked. The type of creature would depend on the state in which the king's sister was buried. If, judging by this tale, the curse manifested itself with her, it was important to know the extend of her condition when she was laid to rest. Mentally, Geralt already had a list of creatures who could fit the description and the killing patterns of this beast. 

"Well... If she were, that would make her child the sole heir to the throne, as Foltest never married. The king fled the castle, ignoring the rising death toll. After Nilfgaard overthrew their king, the brotherhood couldn't risk it happening again, so they send me here three months ago to cure the creature."

There were a few things in this story that didn't add up. Like plot holes in a tale told by storytellers. And there were several questions Geralt had. But before that he had to get one thing straight.

"Vukodlaks are freak mutations, they can't be cured."

Triss gained a little smile that seemed a tad unnerving and Alistair caught onto it right away.

"But... It's not a Vukodlak... Is it?"

Triss walked them to another tunnel. One that seemed far less pleasant to be in. In opposition to the neat looking study they had walked through before, these walls were bare and candles were the only thing that graced the path as decoration. To light the tunnel that gave a sad and unnerving sight. It was a morgue. Alistair had seen one like it before. Somewhere else. It was cold here and there were bodies laid in salt to preserve them. The cold and the salt kept them from decomposing for a time. But even then, the stench of death clung to the bodies and it hung heavy in the air. 

Both left and right of the path there were dozens of open stone sarcophagi filled with salt and a single body. But the hall was long and Alistair could see the dozens that were brought here, were only a small amount of what must have been the number of people killed by this creature.

"Two thousand Orens if you can tell me what exactly killed these people."

Triss said as she halted before the resting place of a body recently deceased. It was the witcher who had come before Geralt. Alistair came to stand next to him as the Witcher drew closer to his dead brother of the trade. His eyes were clawed out and the medallion that laid around his neck was still red with dried blood. All of it none but his own. Alistair turned his head. A silent look just to see if Geralt was alright. Some might think that Witchers held no emotions, but Alistair knew as one of very few that it was as far from the truth as you could get. _Are you alright?_ It was never said. Not in words. But the look of concern laced in silver eyes was enough to give that silent support that even if it wasn't needed, was appreciated none the less. Geralt didn't look away from the dead witcher, but he could feel the silver eyes on him, and it calmed him somewhat. Even though there were a range of things playing up inside him gazing at this sight.

 _This could be my fate._ It floated across Geralt's mind for a mere moment. He could see himself laying there. If he got older, if he'd slow. If he kept going the same reckless, careless pace as he did now. Maybe some day this would be him. Laying there. His fingers clutched around the medallion of the witcher and snatched it off his neck. Something hit him, a wave of an emotion he couldn't quite grasp. Anger mostly, but also sadness, and worry and a soft pain of losing another one of a dying kind. No more witchers could be made. They were slowly dying out. This, Geralt realized all too well staring down at his dead kin. Anger seemed to be the strongest in his swirl of emotions as Geralt squeezed the medallion in his hands. 

"You didn't want the people to know it bested a Witcher."

The words were laced bitter as they came out. As was the look on his face. The lies. They took the reputation of a Witcher and smashed it to bits. Allowing the already strong hate for Witchers to grow under the fear of what would happen if people knew the truth. Witchers were not invincible. That, he despised most of all. The disregard for his kind. The fact that they were so easily blamed because they already had such a dark reputation clinging to their very existence. 

"You let them believe, he fled with their coin."

Geralt turned his head. Wanting Triss to answer to him for her decision. But she kept quiet. He turned back to the dead witcher and tucked the medallion in a pouch on his belt. He had held it to see if it could detect Alistair like it could most creatures. But just like his own medallion, Alistair remained unnoticed. As if he was cloaked for it's abilities to sense non-humans. Geralt took a breath, then with determination scooped at the salt around the Witcher's body. Taking it away from his stomach revealed that there wasn't much left. He seemed hollow. His stomach slashed open from side to side. Geralt reached into the hollow of the body's stomach then reached up towards his lungs.

"You two clearly weren't acquainted."

Triss mused as she looked at the examination with slight discomfort and a tad of disgust. Alistair glared up at her but waited for Geralt to share what he found.

"His heart's missing along with his liver."

Geralt said as he pulled back. Alistair leaned on the stone edge peering down at the body. His mind finding the answer as quickly as Geralt had when he felt the organs were missing.

"Only one creature i know is that picky an eater..."

"A Strigae."

Geralt turned to Alistair with a stoic look but his eyes held surprise. Triss seemed to look at him with a surprise on her face that appeared a little more convincing. 

"What? I've healed many sorts of wounds. My own included. I only know because i ran into one a long time ago."

He shoved the salt back to cover the body and turned towards Geralt. 

"That settles it then. I'm coming with you."


	10. the plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Alistair argue over fighting the Strigae and Alistair plays his violin.

"No."

Geralt clenched his jaw. This was one thing he wouldn't allow no matter how stubborn Alistair was or whatever point he made to get himself into this mess. 

"You're kidding right? Strigae are born from curses. This one already bested one witcher. I have no doubt in your capabilities Geralt, but that one tried to kill it and still lost. You need to keep it ALIVE. That increases the difficulty beyond comprehension. You can't do this alone."

"I said no. I'm better on my own. You're staying with Triss."

"Like hell i am. You can recklessly dive headfirst into any fight you want when i'm not there. Gods know you're stubborn like that. But you're not going to get yourself shred to pieces just to prove a point."

"You think i'm not strong enough?"

"I know you are! You're not listening. You're stronger then the last witcher who tried, that's not the point. I'm not saying you can't do it alone."

"Then why insist to come along if you-"

"Because you're NOT alone!"

Silence fell between the Witcher and his friend. Again that turmoil in Geralt whipped up like a hurricane. Mixing all kinds of feelings that he didn't understand. But above all, he didn't like the way he felt when he thought of all the things that could go wrong. When he thought of Alistair getting hurt. Gods forbid Geralt to be the one to actually end the man's live. If not by sword then by putting him in danger. He couldn't do that.

"Pardon for interrupting, but you said Strigae come from curses?"

Triss tried to steer the conversation in another direction to get to the point of making a plan against the Strigae. It gave Geralt the chance to breathe and gather himself. Alistair tried not to bite back into the conversation by continuing the argument. But his look said it all. He wasn't going to let this go. 

"Yes. Strigae are made with a curse. Which means that someone wanted Adda dead."

Alistair replied, taking a deep breath himself. Geralt tried to ignore the twisting feeling in his gut and followed up with his own knowledge.

"This curse didn't stop with Adda. It turned her daughter into a monster."

"Her... Daughter? "

"Strigaes are an all female species." Alistair replied. Then he turned his head to Geralt.

"And i'm coming with. Like it or not."

The witcher groaned. _Gods help me. He's worse then the bard. I didn't think that was possible._ Again that feeling whipped up. Like something that made you lose your appetite. Like mental stomach cramps. They were there, and then again they were not. It was maddening. Though not half as maddening as yet another princess depending on him with her life. He couldn't save Renfri, he almost killed Alistair (though thank fuck he was not a prince) and now he needed to save yet another princess. What was it about princesses that was so fucking funny to Destiny to throw onto his path. Surely if it wasn't amused at first it would be laughing itself to death now.

Geralt shook his head glaring at the man, but Alistair all but ignored him. Triss seemed to have some sort of a plan together at last when she clasped her hands together.

"You two need to speak with King Foltest. This may shed new light on the task at hand."

* * *

The captain of the guard seemed uninterested in anything but arguing with Triss Merigold and voicing his very strong opinion of Geralt and Witchers in general. Wanting him out of the kingdom as fast as possible. King Foltest seemed to listen with only half an ear as he wolfed down a chicken for his dinner. While the sorceress and the captain argued back and forth, Alistair sat silently by the window while Geralt stood behind Triss, trying very hard not to push passed her and give the Captain a piece of his own mind, with his fist. If there was one very strong reminder in this whole debacle, it was that Geralt of Rivia hated politics. Not being loyal to any king or crown had it's perks. Then again, it seems he still couldn't avoid events like this when he was forced back into the games of the court. 

The arguing back and forth brought the attention to the fact that Adda's unborn daughter was now a Strigae plaguing the land. Yet mentions of her or her mother did not seem to effect king Foltest much. It wasn't until Geralt mentioned a lover that the king stopped eating and stared at his plate, his mind absent and appetite gone. Geralt shared a look with Alistair but he too noticed the change. The conversation continued. Arguments brought to the table for the ability to search the abandoned castle for clues on who cursed Adda, and who made the princess into a monster. Geralt had enough of all this idle chatter. These people needed to realize what they were dealing with. 

"Call her a princess... Call her a unicorn if you like."

He muttered. After which he began to describe the monster the princess would have turned into. Sickening all in the room with the exception of Alistair who kept his eyes on King Foltest until he thought the king would crack.

"Rotten muscle, Bend bones, two spidery legs, claws dragging in the dirt. An overgrown abortion."

"Geralt."

Alistair's voice was sharp. But it was still overpowered by the rattling voice of the king.

"Enough..."

Geralt glared at Alistair but the man simply shook his head. Geralt knew then he had gone too far but yet could not apologize for his behavior or his words. There was more to this story. And if he wanted to have a chance at curing her he needed to know everything that could possibly help him. And he just felt like pushing for it because the King gave him an uneasy feeling. He didn't trust Foltest. Definitely not because talking about Adda's murder left him cold. But as soon as the child's father was mentioned...

"Leave"

The king commanded. Everyone moved to make themselves scarce. Except Alistair, who still sat by the window and for the first time since Geralt knew him, pulled his fiddle from his back and brought the bow to the strings. The first few notes began to play, hauntingly clear. Unlike any violin that Geralt had ever heard. Then, he simply disappeared. Geralt frowned but he walked to the door and just before he stepped out himself, he gave the captain of the guard a shove in the back and closed the door, bolting it shut. When he turned back Alistair was back in near the window where he had sat, his bow lifting from the strings. He nodded at Geralt. Although the witcher didn't quite understand what the man just did, he nodded back and stepped towards the king to question him over the Strigae's father. 

The pain was clear in the king's eyes. And though he never gave Geralt a straight answer, it wasn't hard to deduct that he himself was the father of the child. Whatever happened between him and his sister, whether it was forced or mutual consent, it produced this child. Though at this point it was still hard to say if Foltest was the one to curse Adda, or whether another had discovered the truth and killed her instead. The point of the conversation had been reached without the actual words being said. Sadly, the king's pain was too great to admit to it. And so he recoiled and evaded. He stopped his soldiers when they finally managed to break down the door. But he told the witcher to get out of Temeria, and never to return.

Geralt took a look around the room. All of them, even Triss seemed to have forgotten about Alistair. Or they simply could no longer see him. Since he played there were no more eyes on him. Then he struck a quick cord and only Triss seemed to blink in confusion. Geralt's eyes darted to the exit. Determined, he set a quick pace. If the king wanted him to leave, he would leave. But not before dealing with the Strigae. One way or another. Behind him, Alistair followed. Quietly and unnoticed by all but Triss. 

* * *

"Well... That was... Bracing. Not quite what i had expected."

They stood outside of the palace. Barely having exited the structure and Geralt turned to Alistair with a glaring squint.

"What did you do?"

Alistair groaned and put his fiddle back where it belonged, strapped to his back in a protective case. 

"You're welcome. I gave you an opening and i made them forget i was there. Except for Triss. Because i like her and she seems to hold more sense then all the men of the court combined."

"You made them forget?"

"Yes."

"With a song?"

"Music, like water, is part of my power. That's why you've never seen me play."

"hmm"

Truth be told, it explained a lot. But if it was part of his power, then Geralt also questioned why Alistair didn't use it more often. Or why he didn't use it to heal those people instead of torturing himself with it. Jaskier must have had fun figuring this one out.

"Don't you have any healing songs?"

Alistair snorted.

"I wish. But no. That's not what the fiddle is for. It is both my trap and my weapon, usually nothing good comes from playing, that's why i hardly play."

It explained a lot. It also gave Geralt a bit more insight to what kind of creature Alistair really was. Although not all of it made sense yet. There were a lot of similarities with other species. But it didn't pinpoint just the one that Alistair was. Slowly it had grown into a thing though. Something that the Witcher felt was a need to know. A piece of knowledge he was missing and it kept bugging him.

"I still don't know what to make of you."

"What do you mean?"

"What are you?"

Alistair frowned but then he smiled.

"I'll tell you what i told the Bard. Wait, and i will tell you when i'm ready. But ask me three times, and i will have to show you."

"hmm"

Geralt shook his head. Right now Alistair was being as evasive as King Foltest. 

"I thought you were here to make an apology. If you help me get to the abandoned castle, i'll consider that apology enough."

Alistair widened his eyes.

"You have a plan then?"

"I do"

With a twinkle in his eyes Alistair reached for his fiddle again.

"Well" He concluded. "All you had to do was ask."

* * *

Sitting in the cold wasn't exactly Alistair's favorite thing to do. Despite pleading Geralt to use the same trick to get passed the guards near the abandoned castle, The witcher had declined the offer and was spying on the two guards from below passed the bushes. 

"Come on Geralt, We could have been inside a hundred different ways by now. Why wait?"

Geralt didn't reply and it started to dawn on Alistair that he wasn't waiting for something, but rather for someone.

"oh, oh i see how it is. Wait until Jaskier hears about this. You, waiting around, hatching a plan and then doing nothing because you're waiting for a woman. Both of you are unbelievable. If this in any way or form turns into us having to make a quick escape then i'm leaving you on your own. I've had the bard on my back one too many times already."

Geralt turned to him with a glare which Alistair deflected with an accusing look of his own.

"What? It happens."

Geralt turned back with a grunt and a shake of his head.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

He rumbled. Alistair chuckled and then turned his head.

"And here is your lady. How good to see you miss Merigold."

She came towards them with a smile. 

"Alistair. I thought The Witcher was told to leave Temeria and never come back."

Alistair turned his head to Geralt who shrugged and then gestured to the landscape.

"But come on. These views."

Alistair rolled his eyes but he couldn't hide the smirk playing across his lips. 

"Now can we get inside? My teeth are starting to chatter."

It was Geralt's turn to roll his eyes and he picked up a rock to throw behind the guards who were spooked enough as it was. They turned around in fear. Not trusting the noise and they took off. Leaving their bravery behind. The three waited until the guards had disappeared completely and then made their way inside. 

It was a bleak and haunting vision. Years of neglect had let the dust and cobwebs settle. It added to the eerie scenery. Yet did nothing to haunt the view compared to the bones scattered in the hallways. Fallen furniture, broken candelabras and ripped tapestries made the scene all the more sad. Any normal human would be scared to death setting foot in this place. But then again, another creature, a witcher and a mage were not your average human. The only human who would ever willingly set foot in this place was Jaskier. Too bad he was missing out.

"I have a lot of story telling to do when i get back."

Alistair mumbled. Geralt groaned as if he wished to say: _Don't you dare tell Jaskier about this._ But he knew that was probably a message Alistair would choose to ignore. They came by a portrait and Triss halted to look at the young children on the wall.

"Foltest and Adda" She said. "What happened to them?"

Alistair looked up at the portrait.

"Fate be cruel to let them be born of the same blood."

Geralt and Triss both looked at him with a frown. Geralt turned to check on the doors in the hallway. As he turned away he replied.

"Pretty sure Foltest is the father."

"That he is."

Alistair agreed. They moved on. Coming to a stop in Adda's bedroom. A place as touched by the teeth of time as the rest of the castle. Even more so. They each scattered to a corner of the room. Investigating. Trying to find any clues to who put the curse on Adda. 

"Do you think he cursed her?"

Triss questioned as she dusted a music box.

"Who?" Geralt replied.

"Foltest" she said.

But Alistair shook his head.

"No. I sensed his emotions. There was no anger or malice. Only grief and pain. Lots of pain. He would have sooner cursed himself then harm his sister."

Geralt then came upon the bed. That had scents lingering that... did not belong there. Scents mixing. Those of Adda, those of Foltest, those of... of someone else. And they were... Geralt took a deep breath. The knowledge entering his mind along with the scent entering his nose. He could smell it. And it made his face draw up in a scowl. Oh he knew who cursed her now. There was no way he could be mistaken. 

"Did you catch something?"

Alistair asked. Geralt nodded to the bed.

"You tell me. You can sense it. I can smell it."

Alistair frowned and turned to the bed. He closed his eyes and then opened them wide.

"Oh that's just- Gross."


	11. double trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier sulking makes his companion offer an interesting solution. This just begs for things to go wrong. Geralt and Alistair finally find the curse maker.

"We think you have had one too many."

A gentle hand closed around the cup Jaskier was holding and brought it down. The bard sulked and tried to bring it back up again, but to no avail. It wasn't his fault really, This betrothal was a big event and he had played his best performance yet. The crowd practically laid at his feet and the people he wanted to show this the most weren't there. Oh he would have loved for Geralt and Alistair to be here and witness his success. If only they could have seen him. He played the stars from the heavens this night and all he had left to show for it was a fat purse and the exaggerated stories. Of course his newly acquired friend, (or actually Alistair's friend) was his witness. But it wasn't quite the same. 

"I haven't yet enough to drown my sorrows in."

Jaskier argued and tried to reach for the cup again. Pouting like a child when he was stopped. 

"We don't think this is what Alistair meant when he said 'have fun'. You're sulking."

Weird dopplers and their odd habits of referring to themselves as multiple people. Jaskier snorted. 

"I am attempting to brood, though apparently only a certain Witcher could do so successfully. And i wore blue! Yet my trusty steed isn't here to compliment me for it. I am alone and i long for the company of my friends."

Jaskier's voice had a bit of a slur in it and he leaned on the table, his head so heavy he needed to support it with a hand. 

"I had the crowd eating out of my hand! I've never played so well and they aren't here to bare witness to my greatest performance yet. All i will have are tales and they are sure not to believe a word of it."

He grumbled. Finally quick enough to reach the wine. He took a sip before the Doppler set it down again. It had a young man's appearance, Tanned skin, brown hair, brown eyes. Friendly features. But for all his worth, Jaskier longed to see gold and silver. Not in coin or riches but in eyes. Those beautiful eyes that he could just spend days staring at. The jewels that bared two of the most interesting souls he'd ever met. No matter how beautiful one's eyes were, others were dull in comparison. And there were a whole lot of gorgeous eyes throughout the continent. In various vibrant colors too. 

"We will support your tale. We witnessed it."

Jaskier huffed and wove his hand somewhere above his head whilst it fell onto his arm, splayed across the table.

"Not to offend my friend, but it's not the same."

"We are not offended. We think maybe you should find yourself a woman to distract you. There were plentiful interested in all you have to offer."

"You know it's kind of creepy you and Alistair and even Geralt just know that about people. Although i must admit i have noticed the interest. Alistair would just tell me my advances will get me in trouble again. Oh perhaps i should! He's not here to argue. I can do what i want."

"Would you like to see him?"

Jaskier's eyes widened to the man beside him.

"Is he here?"

The doppler shook it's head.

"No, but we can wear his face. We've done it before. We remember."

Jaskier squinted his eyes. 

"A tempting offer. But it would be a lie. Wouldn't he know anyway if you did that?"

"He knows. He allows it. If we help while wearing his face."

Jaskier took the cup with wine and emptied it down his throat just to help cope with the idea. 

"This is all very weird. Not that i don't appreciate the offer but-"

"What if it could help you? For tonight at least? We would love to help."

"You're rather insistent about it. I might as well be off to find myself a dame of-"

"We know you want to bed him."

"-Mother of- Don't say it like that! I do very much wish to but i won't make use of something that isn't real! It's unseemly. Uncalled for, It's the exact opposite of what a gentleman would do and... would every part of you look like him?"

The doppler smiled and Jaskier felt his cheeks heat up. He shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't even tempt himself to the idea of it. Alistair said he couldn't and that he wasn't ready. To falsify his image and lay with that... It was wrong. Yet the bard was curious enough to wonder about the extend of the abilities.

"Yes our body would match his exactly."

"Could you turn into Geralt?"

"Him we have not seen up close. Him we have not sensed. It cannot be done."

"I shouldn't even be thinking about this. This is so wrong. And yet i'm very interested. But... I can't do that. Even if it isn't real, i would be allowing myself a fantasy that might never come to be with the real Alistair. He wanted to wait. I wish to respect that."

"We could also turn into you."

Jaskier's eyes widened so far for a second anyone who saw it might have worried they were to pop from his head.

"You can?"

"We can"

"You will?"

"If it pleases you."

Jaskier turns to reach for a pitcher to refill his cup just to wrap his head around the possibilities. 

"You are quite mad. I see why Alistair would be friends with you. One would think we'd both had too much to drink... Let's see it then. Let's see if it matches _every part_ of me."

* * *

"There is one thing i don't understand. You don't want the miner's coin. Or mine apparently. Yet you're here. Trying to help. Why? what is this girl to you?"

Triss asked while she approached Geralt and Alistair standing by the bed. Alistair turned away to search another part of the room. He had a feint idea, but said nothing. It was not his place. Geralt knew exactly what drove him here though. What made him want to solve this problem so badly. This Strigae was a princess. A princess he could try to save. And if he managed or died trying, at least he had some idea, some feeling that he could redeem himself towards Renfri. He failed her. He couldn't fail again. He needed to do this to prove, mostly to himself, that he wasn't the butcher that people whispered about behind his back or spat at. He needed to believe that he was more then a monster. More then what people told him. Perhaps that was also the very issue that made him take Roach and ride off that fateful day he almost killed Alistair. He nearly failed him too. Saving this princess was perhaps near impossible. But he had to try. For Renfri. He couldn't save her and till this day it still hurt him. 

But of course that was a thing he did not wish to say. Instead he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and his golden eyes met silver. Alistair had a small smile on his face and his eyes seemed to say everything his lips did not. _I'm here. You didn't fail me. And you won't fail now._ If only Geralt could believe it as easily as the other man could. Instead Geralt asked Triss why she was helping people who wouldn't listen to her. Yet before she could speak, Alistair had found letters revealing a deep buried truth about the royal family. One that explained a great deal about what happened. And even more so why Adda was cursed. They took the letters to Lord Ostrit. And as he read them, Geralt seemed to start showing an aura of resentment and disgust and above that, anger. His expression remained stoic, but Alistair could sense the witcher was boiling underneath. 

"A Queen mother cursing her own children for their affair. This will destroy the throne."

Lord Ostrit muttered as he read the letters. He acted ignorant. But Geralt was certain he couldn't have been a stranger to this news. The conversation went on. Questions were asked about the relationship of Ostrit and Adda. And of that of Foltest and Adda. Pretty soon it was apparent what a deep hatred Ostrit carried for the king. The jealousy of the man reeked and filled up the room with a familiar stench. One that was also derived of want, unrequited. And a lust that was never answered. Geralt needed to make one mere threat and the stench of fear joined the foul smelling odors in the air. His accusation had the man on his knees figuratively. It forced him to confess to the murder of Adda and the curse of the Strigae.

"Foltest had no right! He seduced Adda, Abused his position! He was always nagging her for attention. Always nagging. But he didn't love her. I did."

Alistair shook his head.

"Foltest loved her more then you ever could. Their souls were bound. It was their curse to be born of the same blood, but souls are more powerful in their bond. It transcends even family. It's rare. But such bonds come from beyond this plain and will last even after this life. You couldn't understand that. Because you refused to see it for what it is. You blindly call your own feelings love, but you cursed the woman you held dear only because you couldn't have what you wanted. How can you claim you loved her when you cursed her to spite the man who lives a half life because of you?"

"I cursed Foltest. Not her."

"Sadly. It's the same thing. You cursed twin souls. One lays dead while the other is doomed to walk this earth and fade in the wake of it's other half's absence. When Adda died a part of Kind Foltest died with her. You killed them both. Foltest is a ghost walking because of you. And to have this rising death toll on your conscious... Countless are dead because of you."

"Countless are dead because of Foltest!"

Alistair hissed and loomed closer. His height allowed him to hover over Ostrit like a vulture over a fresh corpse ripe to be picked clean. Geralt did nothing to stop him. Not even as Alistair's eyes turned white and his hair a faded green and a vine slithered around Ostrit's neck. The terror in Ostrit's eyes was a work of art. Something the man no more then deserved. 

"how do we lift the curse"

Geralt demanded.

"Call off your demon, Witcher!"

"Tell us how to lift the curse"

"No!"

Alistair hissed louder and the vine squeezed a little tighter, making Ostrit gasp. Geralt squinted his eyes. So this was yet another thing that Alistair was capable of? Too bad he couldn't let this continue to see it's extend. The witcher would have let it happen just to witness the power with his own eyes. It was what Ostrit deserved, but he wouldn't be able to tell them how to lift the curse if he was dead. Besides, this didn't add up with Alistair's motive to find people in need and help them. This was the opposite of helping. And yet, his scent betrayed that he was more at ease squeezing the life out of this man then he had ever been healing someone sick or injured.

"Alistair."

Geralt warned him. The man didn't look away from Ostrit but he drew back. Him and his power alike, tucked back into their original state. Then Geralt stepped forward and punched Ostrit in the face, effectively knocking him out cold.

* * *

"This could- ah- very well be- hng- the most self indulging thing, i've- oh gods- ever taken part of."

Jaskier moaned while he laid on a bed, neatly tucked between two blonde naked women, while a fake Jaskier laid between his legs, lapping at his hardened cock. The doppler had turned into the bard as per request and then they had found two women to share the bed with. Tucked away in a back room in some hallway that still resonated with drunken voices, soft music and slurred shouting. The party still wasn't over, these people were notorious for it. They would probably be at it until dawn. Though drunk as they were by now the bard was pretty sure he wouldn't be missed. 

He tried to attempt to please both women, flicking his fingers between their legs. It proved a more daunting task with his very own mirror image lavishing attention to his erection. It was scandalous how much Jaskier actually enjoyed seeing himself going down like that. It was almost like an outer body experience. Yet he could curl his hand into the brown mop of his own hair and gaze in those sultry blue eyes as they looked up at him from beneath their long lashes. Fuck the gods, he looked good like that. A cock between his lips, face flushed and eyes wanting. If this was the view his partners had in bed he wondered why he did not get to seduce more men. Then again, homosexuality apparently was still a big issue. Apparently the overall thought on it was that it was shameful to let another man take you and assume the position of a woman. HA! Stupid twats. How could there be shame in receiving such pleasure? 

His mouth was claimed by the woman on his left as the woman on his right tangled her fingers into (not)Jaskier's hair and push his head further down, forcing him to take Jaskier's cock deeper. Jaskier moaned into the woman's mouth. Shivering with pleasure as the doppler's throat slid around his cock, warm, wet and tight. His toes curled in pleasure yet he groaned in protest when his twin lifted away from his cock. The other jaskier had the audacity to smirk to him with that flirty gaze he ever so often used on other unsuspecting ladies and fuck was it effective. Jaskier could feel a shiver race from his head to his toes. One of the women moved down to join him while the other crawled up over him and put a leg on either side of his head. Effectively blocking his view and giving him the task of pleasing her at the same time. Not that Jaskier would protest. But he decided that before this was all over either he'd fuck himself or be fucked by himself. 

It seemed the doppler had the same idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief and unexpected smut! I will not apologize. This has been in my head for quite some time and i wanted more then just seriousness. Maybe i'll dedicate another fic to Jaskier/Doppler!Jaskier because it's a guilty pleasure of mine. And then write it out with just the two of them. (it'll be more lengthy then this. of course) And no women involved. Maybe if Geralt gets lucky he'll get an appearance. Two Jaskiers though... I'll try not to drool on my keyboard.


	12. trust me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt upon realizing just how difficult this will be once again urges Alistair to let him fight alone. Alistair begs him to trust in his abilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know i zoom in a bit on the show here and it makes Jaskier wait on the sidelines, but all of that will be fixed soon enough and there will be an equal amount of Geraskier in the story. Don't you worry, no one forgets about the Bard.

A group of nearly 20 men blocked the path to the entrance of the abandoned castle. Two in the back on horses and the rest all foot soldiers. As Geralt and Alistair drew closer Geralt sighed and put his pack aside, ready for a fight. Alistair kept at a distance, holding an unconscious Ostrit over his shoulder. Alistair was surprisingly strong. Then again, knowing he wasn't human took a big part of that surprise away. The soldiers drew their swords in response and for a second it seemed like things were going to get very ugly very fast until king Foltest appeared from behind the soldiers. Adorned in armor suited for a king. Alistair could feel the void in this man, the hollow and painful existence he lived because of what he lost. It made him pity the king.

"Oh so quick to violence" He said. That would be considered funny if it wasn't true.

"Strange considering what Miss Merigold told me about you." He continued.

Geralt took a quick side look at Alistair to see if he was visible for the soldiers. It seemed King Foltest knew he was there. And just this once the soldiers also seemed to look back and forth between them. Geralt knew very well that Alistair could now disappear if he wanted to. It was a neat trick. If only Geralt could use that more often to blend into crowds, his life wouldn't be half as hard as it was. He turned back to the king. A part of him genuinely curious, a part of him disinterested in anything but getting inside. 

"What's that?"

"She said... To trust you." The king turned his head to Alistair. "Both of you."

That hurt. Geralt remained stoic but he knew very well Alistair could see the tiniest change in him. It hurt because Triss seemed to trust into Alistair even though Geralt had told him he couldn't. After what happened with the well six months ago and nearly killing Alistair it was a subject he found very treacherous. Like treading on thin ice. He wanted to trust Alistair, but with everything that happened he knew he couldn't. Not until he knew what Alistair was. And the man refused to tell him. It was infuriating. How was it that others could trust him so easily? Were they that naive? Or was he that paranoid that Alistair could used it against him? Alistair turned his head to Geralt but the Witcher looked away. _I can't trust you._ It was painful to admit even in thought. _Not yet._

The king cut their line of sight as he approached Geralt, and somehow the witcher was grateful for it. He didn't even know how he was feeling half the time. To have someone look at him and know exactly what was going on in his head was unnerving. Something he wasn't used to. Something he didn't quite know how to deal with. 

"Will this work? Answer honestly."

Honesty. No easy feat if the answer wasn't clear to him either. But he had to admit the truth, even if it wasn't what King Foltest wanted to hear.

"I don't know."

He sighed. Trying not to look passed the king to Alistair. They were doing this on a gamble. Strigaes were tricky enough on their own. 

"Will my.... Daughter... Be normal?"

King Foltest asked again. An even harder question. With no easy answer to follow.

"She'll need special care. She's lived as an animal. All she's ever known is.. rage and hunger."

It would be difficult. Very difficult to get her into a normal life again. Behind them Alistair spoke up for the first time. Keeping on the sidelines mostly to not get in the way of a fight or a conversation. But now he stepped in and offered some form of hope, some form of relief for the king.

"If this works. If we succeed. I may know someone who can help you take care of her. He has helped several previously cursed humans come back to a normal life. I will send him your way when i can. But you must be open minded. Etain was once cursed himself and still bares the mark. He's equipped with a lion tail."

King Foltest seemed relieved at the news. Even though it would prove quite a challenge to raise his daughter as a princess from there on. Geralt walked over to his pack to sheath his sword and instead his fingers clutched around bejeweled gold. Cold to the touch. And a painful reminder to what blood he had stained his sword with. Renfri's brooch. He failed her. He would not fail another princess like that. Not again. He couldn't afford the guilt. Determined he walked back to hand the brooch to King Foltest. As a promise. As a vow. As a word that he would do this or die trying. He held the brooch out. The gold reflecting the moon's cool light. Green gems shining bright in the torch light even through the darkness around them. 

"What is this?"

King Foltest asked when he took off a glove and accepted the gold brooch into his warm hand. A warmth it had missed all this time. All thanks to the witcher. 

"For the princess-"

Geralt replied. Still avoiding Alistair's gaze, now even more then before. 

"-if i can lift the curse." 

Which was still doubtful at this point. 

"A gift."

King Foltest had his doubts accepting it as such. 

"You're giving me this because you do not expect to see morning."

The accusation stood. And part of it was true. Then again, Geralt took a breath and recalled what Alistair had said to him. As he looked up in those silver eyes he could hear them resonating in his head. _You are NOT alone._ If he could just tell himself to trust in that he would stand a better chance. Alistair encouraged him with a small smile and Geralt felt it warm him in a way he hardly ever got to experience.

"This isn't my first time trying to save a princess. Or a friend. But this time i think i stand a better chance."

Foltest turned to Alistair and then back to the witcher. There was something unreadable in his eyes, but his scent betrayed his thoughts on their companionship. Like a new pain blossoming in his chest. Understanding a bit of the feelings that Geralt couldn't name. And the feelings Alistair had towards him. 

"For all it brightens love casts long shadows..."

He mumbled as he turned to Geralt. It stabbed Geralt in a place he didn't know existed. He didn't know what Foltest meant. And he didn't have the chance to ask when the King made his exit after he spoke. But it must have been a reaction to something he saw between them. What did he mean to say? Alistair took Ostrit's unconscious body and carried him inside. Geralt followed, his head still wrapped in the puzzle of Foltest's words. 

* * *

"He should be stoned for laying a hand on his twin!"

Jaskier tried not to bark out a laugh to the city's council. Because both, it would get him into more trouble, and it would not help him out of these cuffs. It was kind of asking for trouble when he decided he wanted the Doppler to look like him and when they got caught fucking by one of the nobleman in town he asked to join or he would expose the affair. Let it be said that Jaskier the Bard had standards even when sleeping with half the continent and refused. Of course the doppler was mistaken for his twin with actual blood ties and though they had tried to explain the situation, no one would listen. However, the doppler was also at risk. If he'd change faces in front of everyone they'd call the nearest witcher to get rid of him. Alistair would not be happy if he lost a friend this way. He'd also be quite amused to tell it to Jaskier's face that the Bard could not stay out of trouble for even a day. Honestly it was not his fault!

"Would it help to say we're not blood related?"

Jaskier tried but the man accusing him sneered into his face.

"You'd have us believe that by some form of magic you come half way across the continent to find a face like yours? And you decide to get intimate with one who looks just like yourself? You're a fucking peacock son of a whore for trying to make excuses. The law around here, for laying a hand on blood relatives in such a way is death! Or would you rather we take your cock instead?"

"Now hold on just a minute!"

Jaskier tried to raise his voice above the roaring crowd but it was a tad difficult. If he escaped this town he would never be able to set foot in it again.

"What if it was magic huh? Some.. some mage may have turned my lover in.. into me.. or something. And and the only way to lift the curse.. was, was this! A bit of pleasure never hurt anyone."

The bard shifted on his feet. Oh if only Geralt or Alistair were here. He would be rescued instead of trying to make up excuses. But then again, If they were here he'd never hear the end of it. 

"Then why hasn't he changed back?"

Jaskier coughed and looked up with disbelief.

"Well in case you don't recall dragging me out of there with my breeches on my ankles we didn't exactly get to.. to.. finish."

"In that case you wouldn't have a problem proving it to the council. Would you?"

"wha- Here? NOW?!"

Jaskier looked at the doppler and it looked back with a bit of the same helpless gaze. It's not that Jaskier wasn't into working with an audience, although he firmly believed intimacy would be better enjoyed in private without prying eyes. But this put a bit of the pressure on the both of them. His shackles were opened and they were both pushed towards each other. Jaskier quickly pulled him in by his sleeve. 

"Could you change to someone else if we do this?"

The doppler looked up with a slight panic.

"We wouldn't know who into! We don't like being watched."

Jaskier pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What about the man from before the party? Can you change back into him?" The doppler nodded wide eyed. Jaskier had never seen his own eyes draw open so wide. Like two sky orbs.

"Alright. Good. Yeah. Good. We'll just have to get through this."

* * *

Ostrit was bound to the bed posts at the end of Adda's bed. His huffing and grunting showed he was slowly coming back to consciousnes. Alistair was working on preparing his quiver with arrows of a special kind. Geralt calmly strolled to the broken window. Getting a view and mentally preparing himself for the coming battle. But also still trying to figure out how to cure the strigae. Until they knew specifics it was going to be impossible to find the right cure. The full moon rose up high and the hour of truth was getting closer. They needed answers now or they would be doomed to try everything they knew as a cure while fighting the strigae. 

"Witcher"

And accusing voice filled the room. Ostrit tugged at his binds and Geralt all but ignored him. 

"This is madness! What are we doing here?! What is happening?!"

Geralt turned his head to look at Alistair who set himself on a stool while he filled his quiver and put it and his bow on a hip belt. He showed a bit of a dark smile and chose to ignore Ostrit too. Geralt turned back to the window.

"How can i lift the curse?"

Ostrit looked from him to Alistair who gazed at him darkly. In all honesty if they didn't need these answers Geralt might not have stopped Alistair from strangling the man to death. His filthy stench hung everywhere in this room. Old, new. Lust, fear, anger. Fear now being the strongest.

"No."

Ostrit once again refused. 

"Alistair."

Geralt simply said. The man laid his bow and quiver aside and chuckled darkly. His eyes fading to white and his hair once again turning into that fading green. 

"Witcher! Don't you dare set your demon on me again!"

Ostrit struggled. Alistair hummed and moved closer, sitting down on Ostrit's lap, cupping his face while from his hands water lilies slithered around Ostrit's neck. 

"This would be simple, if you just tell us how to lift the curse."

Alistair hummed. Ostrit's stench of fear strengthened, filling up the whole room as he stared into those white void eyes. He shook his head but the vines slithered tighter around his neck. The scent of lilies grew stronger too. Even overpowering the scent of fear coming from Ostrit. Geralt took a deep breath. It smelled like power, like precision, like wrath and anger, like deadly beauty and faintly it smelled like the white horse, like water, like Alistair. 

"This is not right! Foltest must pay for what he did!"

Ostrit struggled against the grip around his throat. Alistair narrowed his glowing eyes, turning back to Geralt for a moment with a look that said: _Can i kill him?_ However Geralt shook his head and Alistair groaned displeased. 

"Explain that to her."

Geralt mumbled and turned towards the two men on the floor. Seeing Alistair transformed like that sitting on Ostrit's lap while slowly cutting off his air did something to Geralt. But whatever feeling bubbled up at the sight, he pushed it down. He had to remain focused. 

"Carry me out, I order you. And call off your demon!"

Ostrit struggled. Alistair brought his face real close to Ostrit after being called demon for a third time. He smiled. Widely so. And instead of his usual pearly smile a set of white, razor sharp teeth showed themselves peeking out from his lips. Like a shark, each tip as pointy as the next.

"Not a demon. But i'm not picky, i could kill you either way. Tell us how to lift the curse or i will sink these pretty white tips in your neck."

Geralt shivered with the scent that now drifted from Alistair. It smelled like flowers wilting. And he visibly grew darker. Easing into a kind of violence that Geralt had never witnessed before. This was the opposite of what Alistair normally was. Always friendly, always polite, always ready to help. Suddenly his behavior seemed to make a lot of sense. He was fighting it. This blood lust, this darkness inside, the tendency to murder, the urge to kill. He was always and constantly fighting against the turmoil and the violence that came from his own nature. He was fighting his own nature. Something clicked inside Geralt's head. And though he did not want to give Ostrit the idea that he complied to the man's demands, he pulled Alistair off of the man. He suddenly understood. This was what Alistair was trying to avoid. That's why he hurt himself. To fight against hurting others. 

"Enough. Tell us now or i will let him squeeze the life out of you."

Geralt said even as he took Alistair by an arm and pulled him off of Ostrit. Alistair protested but in the very back of his expression and his scent, Geralt could sense him being grateful. 

"She- She was hiding from the brotherhood... She sold me a lamb! sh-she told me to wait until a full moon, to wait and then to kill it. And then i recited some silly chant. And then i bathed in the lamb's blood until sunrise. Until the rooster crowed three times... And that is all."

Geralt frowned and he dropped, crouching before Ostrit. Alistair frowned and went over the story in his head. 

"What was the chant?"

Geralt asked. Narrowing his eyes.

"Wha- it was years ago!"

Ostrit protested. Even if he knew he wouldn't be able to just spill it in words. 

"FUCK"

Geralt's head whipped up to Alistair who had thrown his head in his neck.

"What?"

"The chant doesn't matter. Lamb's blood. Full moon. Bathing until sunrise? This is going to be so much harder then i thought it would be."

Alistair seemed uneasy. Switching from one foot to the other.

"Why. What is it?"

Alistair sighed and looked up. Anger flashing across his still white glowing eyes. 

"We're going to have to keep the strigae out of her crypt... Until the fucking rooster crows three fucking times."

Even Ostrit seemed to grasp the seriousness of the situation.

"You'll have to fight her until dawn..."

Fuck. Well that changed everything. Geralt took Alistair by an arm and brought him to the door. Resolute and unyielding.

"Get out."

He rasped. He hadn't counted on something so difficult, so exhausting. The night was long and the rooster wouldn't crow for hours. This was going to be a lot harder then to just hold her off or trap her some place. An entire night meant a big stamina issue. Not for him, Witchers could keep up the pace for a long time, but even he knew that by the end of the night he'd slow. If Alistair would run out of stamina he'd get killed.

"What? No!"

"Alistair-"

"Dammit Geralt i told you i was coming with you-"

"This is different. No battle that lasts for hours on end comes without cost."

"So you rather try or die by yourself? Don't be daft. We stand a better chance together."

"Dammit Alistair i can't fight if i worry about you!"

"Then don't!"

Alistair pulled out of the witcher's grip. Angry and upset and his eyes were storming. Back to their silver color to show Geralt he was serious. 

"Don't worry for me. Fight like you always do. I told you. I can take care of myself."

"I don't doubt you-"

"Yes you do. You have barely seen a sliver of what i'm capable of. I can handle this."

"Alistair-"

"Trust me. Geralt.... I need you, to trust me. That is what i lost, that is what i want to gain. What i Need to earn. I need you, to trust in me."

It hurt. Because that was the very issue Geralt stumbled upon before. His disability to trust in someone who kept secrets from him before. It wasn't that he didn't want to. But the truth of the matter was, he did trust Alistair, he just didn't trust himself. He already almost killed the man once. What if he failed again and Alistair died because of Geralt? 

"I don't even know what you are"

Geralt retorted. He didn't want to create distance between them, but his words made Alistair step back. Hurt swirling in his eyes. The man took a deep breath and looked up. Then Geralt decided that he needed to get over this. It had been six months. If he didn't give Alistair a chance now they would part on an even sour note then they did when Geralt rode off. It was time to face this problem.

"But okay. I trust you."

Alistair's face turned into a smile and his eyes went back from silver to white. He hoist his fiddle over his shoulder, his bow strapped to his hip with his quiver. Ready for whatever would come next. Geralt shifted through his potions, quickly finding the one that he was looking for and he downed it in one go. Once again opposites met as instead of silver and gold, black and white now bore into each other. Alistair smiled and Geralt nodded to him. He would trust Alistair. With that, they were ready for the strigae. And not a moment too soon. Screeching, loud and high echoed through the hallways and reached the bedroom with a tremble in the air. 

Alistair nodded at Geralt and made his way out of the room. It took a lot for the witcher to stop himself and pause. Allowing the other to go off like that. He needed to trust Alistair. And if there were two of them maybe they could close the Strigae in. Geralt too made ready to leave the room. Ignoring the whimpers from Ostrit, who'm he left to his fate. It was no more then the curser deserved. To be killed by his own creation. Alistair was more of a man then Ostrit would ever be, and he wasn't even human. Which made Geralt all the more certain for his actions. He left the man and turned into the hallway. Allowing his senses to reach beyond what his eyes could see.

It didn't take long for the scent of blood to drift through the hallways. The Strigae had made it to the bedroom and claimed her first and hopefully last victim of the night. And with blood soaked claws she went on to look for more strangers in her home. Geralt came across her first. Attempting to trap her in silver chains so she would not be able to move anywhere. Sadly, silver on it's own was not as strong as steel, and the chains were easily broken. Before she could attack a shrill whistle sounded and something flew through the air. An arrow which, on impact with the wall created a white flash between Geralt and the Strigae and temporarily blinded them both. He felt a hand pull at his arm to get him out of the way while the Strigae blindly swiped her claw in front of her. As soon as his vision came back to him he saw Alistair draw another arrow, aiming off to the side to create another flash that blinded the Strigae. 

"We need to find the crypt and seal it. I'll keep her busy." 

Geralt called out.

"Got it."

Alistair took off running, making his way down the castle to search for the crypt. Geralt exchanged blows with the Strigae who blindly tried to claw at him. Even though he could block the movements, she was strong and he had trouble keeping her from hitting him with too much force. They stumbled through the hallway in the exchange. Ultimately Geralt was forced to use Aard to keep her at a distance. The difficulty was that he couldn't draw his sword on her. It would wound her too much. Even kill her. The only thing he could grab for was a torch from the wall. In attempt to hit her with a blunt object and make her pass out. She blocked him and hit back just as hard if not harder. A few punches landed directly onto Geralt's body and one against his head, which made him lose his footing. 

He fell flat on his back. Groaning with a dull ache and the awareness of her crawling over him. Instead of clawing at him or biting him however, she seemed so pissed off that she wanted to smack him around like a sack of potatoes. She clawed into his new armor, and slammed him against the wall and the floor. He could feel bruises form on his body while he struggled to try and get out of her grip. Then she threw him away across the hall. With such force that his sword slid from it's sheath and landed a couple of feet further. He reached for it but it was too far away. And she was on him in seconds.

"Geralt your eyes!"

On instinct when the voice called out. Geralt closed his eyes. Another arrow flew and created a flash. Giving Geralt enough time to push her off. Instead she blindly charged to Alistair screeching in anger and the man turned around to run. She hissed and used her claw to swipe at his feet. He tripped and fell. Geralt who was following them closely worried that she might go for the kill. But as Alistair turned around to her with his white eyes and green hair, she paused. A confused clicking noise coming from her throat. Alistair pushed his hands up and shoved. Sending her flying back. Geralt could barely deflect her and he grabbed her, attempting to trap her against the wall. He wondered for a brief moment why she didn't attack Alistair, but he was once again pressed on his focus when she threw him back on the ground. He used the force of his signs to break the floor beneath them and groaned in pain as it crumbled and they both fell several feet with the debris. It rendered the Strigae unconscious. 

Alistair was down with them quickly as he jumped and held a hand out to Geralt to help him up. 

"We don't have a lot of time. She'll wake and be more pissed off then ever before."

Alistair said. He reached down to touch her feet. Allowing his power to slither around her and bind her in lilies. 

"This won't hold for long but it'll buy us time."

Geralt looked up.

"Why did you turn back? I told you to go find the crypt."

Alistair looked up. 

"Well... there's a bit of a problem with that. There's more then one. Besides i sensed trouble. I've no doubt you could have taken care of this yourself, but i wanted to make sure."

"That she wouldn't kill me?"

"That you wouldn't kill her. I mean, you're pretty hard to kill."

"It's not impossible"

"Tell that to her."

The strigae hissed and spazzed in her unconscious state and it made both Geralt and Alistair back off. 

"The Crypt."

"We're in it."

Geralt looked up and Alistair pointed behind him to a crooked gate.

"That's one. And then-"

He turned to a few stone sarcophagi.

"-there's two three and four."

"Fuck."

Geralt sighed and pulled a potion from his belt, unfortunately the crash had shattered the glass and the liquid had seeped out, no longer usable. He sighed and walked up to the sarcophagi, sealing them off with Quen one by one. It would take a chunk out of his stamina. Then the Strigae started moving, he quickly took Alistair by an arm and pushed him passed the bent iron gate and sealed the entrance up with Quen. 

"Hey wha- Geralt!"

Alistair banged a fist on the barrier. Anger radiating from him along with concern. But it was precisely that which made Geralt lock him away in the first place. Alistair had been lucky the strigae had not attacked him. And Geralt's instinct despite him trying to trust Alistair was still set on keeping the other from harm.

"You can't do this! Let me out!"

Alistair called out but Geralt ignored it. His eyes were on the strigae who quickly broke through one bond after the other. Snapping the vines like twigs. Then Alistair's eyes widened.

"Geralt. Geralt behind you! That's the crypt!"

Geralt turned around instantly. Just in time. The Strigae had snapped her last bonds and tried to make a run for it. Hastily wanting to put herself safely back in her cursed crypt. Geralt ran and he barely beat her to it. In a last attempt to keep her from it he threw himself in the stone crypt, ignoring the unbearable smell of death and rotten bones and he tried to close the lid. The strigae struggled to open it but Geralt quickly pulled the lid shut and sealed it with Quen. Breathing heavy and finally succumbing to the pain of his bruises. Falling from a higher floor made everything hurt. He could still hear her screech and try to pry open the lid, until a soft sound broke through her hissing fit. A violin, playing a soft medley that took away the noise from the strigae. It was entrancing. Beautiful. And without much effort, it lulled the Witcher to sleep.

* * *

By the time the rooster crowed three times, Geralt felt sore but rejuvenated somehow. Like he hadn't been able to sleep so well in a while. Soft tones were still carrying on passed the stone and confused, Geralt released the seal and crawled out of the crypt. Alistair sat with his back against the wall behind the barrier that Geralt had put up, slowly coaxing notes from his fiddle. His eyes were still white and his hair still green and yet, he looked tired. When he saw Geralt he finally stopped playing and he smiled.

"Are you going to let me out?"

"hmm"

Geralt hummed and he released the barrier holding Alistair back. The man yawned and stretched his limbs, getting up. Geralt turned to a shivering form coated in sunlight, dirt, grime and dried blood. She seemed to breathe evenly.

"You put her to sleep?"

"I only could after she was exhausted. Strigae have a strong will. But low and behold, she looks human again."

Alistair patted Geralt on his shoulder.

"You did it."

Geralt looked up and sighed.

"We did."

It was only fair to give credit where credit was due. Alistair nodded. Geralt walked over to the shivering girl who slowly seemed to wake. She seemed completely human again. And underneath the smell of everything stuck to her skin was no longer the smell of a Strigae, but that of a princess. And yet... there was something... Geralt checked over his armor, the left pad would need mending. He took it off before he knelt next to her. She was awake now, bewildered eyes first stared at him and for a split second, Geralt felt relieved. He didn't fail again. Then she showed her hand, sharp nails grown over the years still made her a weapon and she raked at Geralt with an angry hiss. Crawling over him in her naked form to swipe at him.

"Geralt!"

Alistair thrust his hand forward to coil a rope of vines around her ankle and pull her back, but by the time he took her away, She had already sunken her teeth in Geralt's neck, and he in reflex and response to self preservation had done so to her. She scooted back. Hand on her neck. In pain, looking up at Alistair confused as he knelt before her and pushed a hand up against the wound. The side of his neck turned red as it started bleeding and a set of teeth prints appeared in a ghastly bite. She looked at him bewildered and slowly let her hands drop. Alistair allowed his hair to turn blonde again and his eyes back to a silver and removed his hand. Her wound already healing as he took it from her. Then he quickly moved to Geralt who was struggling to stay awake. She had bitten him far deeper then he had her and the blood was gushing out of him like a small stream. Alistair placed his hand on Geralt's neck. The Witcher shook his head but Alistair hushed him. It was all Geralt heard before he passed out.

* * *

A voice resonated in his head. It sounded familiar and yet he couldn't grasp it. He had succeeded. He cured the strigae. Geralt groaned softly as his soul laid between wake and sleep. Renfri... Would she know what he did? Would she be aware that he saved a princess and this time did not fail? Had he finally proven that he wasn't a monster? That he wasn't incapable of saving someone in need who others thought beyond saving? Suddenly amber eyes shot open and for a split second, Geralt couldn't remember where he was. All he knew was this pain flaring up in his neck and the girl attacking him even after becoming human once again. But as he tried to sit up a gentle hand pushed him back.

"Easy. Don't agitate your wounds."

The voice was familiar. As was the face that it belonged to.

"Alistair."

Geralt sighed and let himself sink back into the pillow. Feeling more at ease knowing the other was alright. His mind raced over recent events. Gathering everything that happened at night, suddenly worry poked him as he remembered how the pain in his neck came to be there in the first place. 

"The princess?"

Alistair smiled softly.

"Unlike you, she won't even scar. Triss arranged for her to stay with the sisters of Melitele for a while. And i've send a dove to my contact arranging for him to come help with her rehabilitation. She'll be fine."

Geralt looked up at him, golden orbs falling onto a red crust in his neck that looked remarkably like the print of a set of teeth.

"You healed her."

"And you. Partly. If i were to heal you fully you'd be more upset. Taken wounds take longer to heal."

"Why"

"I'm not a natural helper. My nature does not allow it. Therefor all the help i extend has a price."

"Does your nature always confuse an all female species?"

Alistair chuckled as he sat down on the edge of Geralt's bed.

"All female species will always be confused by an all male species."

"you?"

"Yes."

Geralt sighed as he looked up at the man who probably saved his life and helped him prove that he would never let anyone become a second Renfri. As if Alistair could read his mind he brought her into the conversation.

"You said her name. Renfi. I assume this was hers?"

The golden brooch spun in his hands and despite still feeling under the weather, Geralt sat up. Taking the cool metal into his hands. He looked up into those silver eyes.

"I shouldn't have left you there. With Jaskier. But... I almost killed you like i did her. I didn't want you to become like her. But you're not. You're.... different. And i regret that i didn't trust you."

"So many words Witcher. But i am grateful. No more pushing me behind barriers. Trust me. And i will trust you with what i am."

"What are you?"

Geralt realised the second the words were out that he was pressing. And he peered at the brooch in silence.

"Patience, Geralt."

They shared a smile. Silent and appreciative of each other's company. Until after a moment's peace, Geralt's voice once again rumbled.

"I need to get back to my horse."


	13. what i am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> our favorite trio continues their journey, Alistair comes clean about what he is. (they never did get that pitcher of Ale)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Happy valentine's day! I was having a bit of trouble getting back to this chapter because i didn't really know where i wanted it to go at first, and when i did i didn't know how to get there. But it seems i managed. Now, in the show, the next episode after the Strigae would be the Cintra betrothal. Which is something i've had my doubts about. To put it off, i'm not going to mention it or write about it just yet, because there's like 7 years between Geralt and Jaskier's first meeting and the whole Cintra betrothal shenanigans. I also don't want to stick too closely to canon so idk what i'm gonna do with that yet. I'll probably mention it somewhere because: Ciri. So yes the whole thing needs to happen at some point. But for now, i'm going to focus on building a relationship between these three idiots. Because i regret to discover that yes, i made Alistair an idiot too. lol. #random thoughts

* * *

"I still don't understand how you can get yourself into so much trouble you turn yourself into a public spectacle to prove you weren't fucking your twin. I was only gone for two weeks."

Alistair mumbles as he walks beside Jaskier, who on his turn walks beside Geralt sitting on Roach.

"Ah well, your friend was very forthcoming in indulging some of my more -how to call it- intimate fantasies."

"I said have fun, i didn't specify not to have the kind that gets you in trouble. My bad. They should've known better then to indulge you of all people."

"What's that suppose to mean? I was perfectly fine until this royal cockhold decided to crash into the room and demand to either partake or spill the beans, i have standards!"

Geralt snorted.

"Which are still at an all time low."

He rumbled. Alistair nearly chocked on his own laugh and Jaskier's mouth fell open like a fish on dry land.

"You're just jealous because all the women in the continent are charmed by my voice, features and flattering compositions. Oh! Speaking of which. I am dying to know what happened in Temeria. Surely one of you can tell me the tale of tales on this one and allow for another one of my crafty compositions to fatten our purse and bring fame and glory to the white wolf!"

Geralt glared down at Alistair with a look that said: _Don't you dare._ And Alistair looked up with a wicked grin.

"Nothing much happened. Saved a princess, saved a kingdom, fought about it along the way. I guess in the end it turned out well."

Jaskier squinted his eyes at Alistair's reply and then back to Geralt and then back to Alistair. 

"Oh i'm sure you two had sooooo much fun without this poor Bard. So much so that you two conspire against me."

Alistair laughed.

"We would never."

They were a few miles out from the next town. Traveling away from Temeria further down the south. Aimlessly so far. Not going anywhere particular. Geralt's contract had earned him enough coin and they were not wise to remain in the same area after meeting up with Jaskier. Since the Bard made quite some trouble for himself which send him all but fleeing from the city he previously performed at.

"ohoho you so would. Look at the two of you, just sharing glances like nobody's business, leaving me to speak to no one but Roach."

The horse snorted and nodded her head which had Alistair burst out in contagious laughter. 

"That's a horrible thing to say Roach." 

Alistair muttered when he could finally stop laughing. Jaskier eyed him curious but as soon as Alistair caught the look he wove his hand apologetically. 

"It's not really worth repeating. It doesn't change the fact however that while we were off saving a princess, you have once again found yourself in the wrong bedchambers and are thus run out of town nearly with your breeches on your ankle. You could have told them to change into a woman. They don't specifically turn into only one gender. You didn't even think that besides curses and blood bonds, relations with men was high on the list they could charge you with?"

"In my defense it was quick thinking! It saved us thus far and it was not pleasant having to perform something i usually _Don't_ perform in _public_ i might add. They were taken by surprise hence we decided on a form we'd both already seen! They should really create some kind of spell against the anxiety that pairs with the thought of two men coupling."

"My point is, it could have ended badly. That's why i didn't want you to go alone. Now i realize maybe alone would have been better. Then again, alone or not trouble seems to find your bed wherever you make it."

"aha! There the truth dares to take a peek into the lovely daylight. You were worried about me!"

Alistair sighed as he kept walking.

"And you only hear what you want to hear."

He replied as Jaskier seemed to slow but carry a big grin on his features. The bard took his Lute and strummed it while following the other two. Quietly composing another tune he had not yet found the words to. 

* * *

They reached the next town just after sunset. And it seemed rather crowded. People were drinking and talking and pressing passed one another to get to another corner of the tavern. If this was any sign there were a lot of people in town then they should worry for the inn. Geralt and Jaskier both made their way to the inn while Alistair scouted the local tavern and cleared them a table in the corner with meals and drinks included. When Geralt entered the inn however he feared the same situation applied. 

"How many rooms do you have left?"

He asked the innkeeper. The man wanted to say none but Geralt witnessed as the man's eyes fell to his medallion and then the sword on his back and his white hair and golden eyes and he quickly swallowed it down. There was a sense of unease and a bit of fear, no more then Geralt was used to. 

"We're pretty full up. But i can make room for a Witcher."

"Just the one then?"

Geralt sighed and was ready to give up all together and go camp out in the woods somewhere close by. But Jaskier quickly pressed some coin into the man's hand. 

"We'll take whatever you can offer good sir. I understand you have a good business, might i ask why there are so many people seeking lodgings?"

The man looked from Jaskier to Geralt but then handed over a room key.

"There's a wedding to be held in town. Tomorrow the Alderman's son marries this lovely lass from Eritrea, viscount's second daughter she is. We want no trouble before the feast."

Jaskier perked up.

"A wedding? Surely they could use the addition of a troubadour? I myself am quite an accomplished performer. Trouble there will be none to have good sir."

It took everything for Geralt not to snort in accusation of Jaskier saying: No trouble. Instead he reminded Jaskier that Alistair was waiting for them.

"Jaskier. Let's go."

They made it to the room and stored their possessions. Yet Jaskier stubbornly held on to his elven lute. Geralt couldn't blame him. If he could he'd rather keep the sword on his back with him at all times because the familiar weight of it made him more at ease. Then they went to join Alistair in the local tavern who already had a table with meals and ale set out for them. One in the corner. Just as Geralt liked. They sat down, Jaskier tired and hungry, eagerly plucking from his plate. And Geralt more thirsty, grabbing his ale first. Alistair was quietly enjoying his own meal before he inquired to their nightly arrangement. 

"Did the innkeeper have room?"

Geralt lowered his cup.

"Just the one."

He replied before Jaskier could with a full mouth.

"I see. Busy day tomorrow. With the wedding and all."

"hmm."

Geralt didn't ask how he knew. Knowing him Alistair probably felt it. Or heard it. 

"Does it have a bath?"

"What?"

"The room."

"Yes."

"Good."

The rest of their meal was mostly spend in silence. Partly only because Alistair wouldn't allow Jaskier to talk with his mouth full. Near the end of it though, when Geralt feared the bard would burst into a stream of words, one patron came to their table eyeing the Bard and his lute and asked him to play. Jaskier would never say no to such a thing and so he took up his lute, cleared his throat and plucked at the strings while moving to the middle of the tavern. Performing in earnest. Alistair looked at him with a smile on his face. Leaning his elbows on the table. His gear stashed next to him in the corner. Then he turned to Geralt.

"Did you see the notice board?"

"Hmm"

"Anything note worthy?"

"Hmm"

Alistair couldn't suppress a grin but nodded. 

"No real pressing need here either. Which means we don't have to stay long."

He turned to look at Jaskier again, who played his best and charmed the room with his smile. He winked to the ladies and nodded his head to the men. Carefree as only he could. 

* * *

"Your bandage needs changing."

Alistair mumbled while later that night, Geralt sat in the bath and the man had a stool pulled up next to it, Behind him was Jaskier who had pulled a stool up next to the stool Alistair was sitting on so he could care for Alistair who sat there waiting his turn to have the bath. Jaskier just finished inspecting the wound in his neck while Alistair had told him more details about the Strigae in Temeria. A story to which Geralt did not protest so long as Alistair refrained from sharing his personal reasons for that particular contract. Jaskier moved to Geralt next and inspected the wound on Geralt's neck. Cleaning it and gently applying salve on it.

"Honestly if i didn't know any better i'd say the two of you argued so badly that you took a bite out of each other. And my thoughts have nothing to do with how that sounds."

The bard huffed as he cleaned up Geralt next.

"In a sense you could say we snapped at each other hard enough."

Alistair replied with a light hearted chuckle. But Geralt didn't want to talk about it. It was personal and it was hard enough as it is to admit to being wrong before. He had fought with Alistair over trust because of what happened with the secret of the white horse. And before that Blaviken. Because he was terrified of making that same mistake again. Thinking back on it proved painful enough. 

"The bath needs refilling."

Geralt mumbled. Alistair tilted his head.

"No need, i can purify it. Natural filters are something i've gotten quite good at."

Geralt tilted his head but Alistair took the crest from his sash and held it on his hand. It opened gently, fluttering in his hand like a shy butterfly in love with it's master. The stem released from the underside of the crest and curled around Alistair's fingers. 

"Right. Lilies."

Geralt hummed. He got out of the bath. He couldn't be bothered with hiding anything or feeling uncomfortable. These were two people that knew him well, better then most people. And the odd thing was that he did appreciate their company in a way that he could not with other people. A safe haven of some sort. Despite his fights with Alistair, the trust for this man had returned. He trusted both of them. He couldn't say with his life. That was too much, too far, too soon. But he trusted them. And therefor had nothing to hide. It also helped that his shame was apparently none existent. He simply couldn't feel it like humans could. 

Alistair took off his clothes and slid in the luke warm water, lilies on vibrant green pads sprouting all over the surface in the bathtub. The room started smelling like them. Though it wasn't a scent that Geralt disliked. The flowers each opened and presented themselves in lotus-like grandeur. But they were all white in color. It invoked some of the Bard's curiosity. He repressed it most of the time because Alistair revealed bits and pieces of himself and his powers along the way, but sometimes Jaskier couldn't help but wonder aloud and ask his questions to get a grip on the things he couldn't see or understand so easily.

"Why are they all white? When the one you're holding is a deep blue."

Jaskier leaned on the edge of the tub with his arms and lowered a hand to caress the petals of a white flower. It quivered in his touch at first, like something alive, but then opened up it's petals wider and exposed the core. Like a puppy on it's belly asking for more rubs. 

"It's called the Indigo. And it's one of a kind. There's only one of it in the entire continent and it grew in the pond where i... where i was born."

Jaskier widened his blue eyes.

"You were born under water?"

Alistair frowned, trying to find the words to explain.

"Well... not exactly. I was not born like you or Geralt. I... came into being. Some say from another world. But if i truly am not of this world, then i have no recollection of what my home world is supposed to be like. My earliest memories are from the pond that grew the Indigo."

Jaskier sighed dreamy. He would have loved to see Alistair's home. The place where he came from. Each time it was described it sounded like this beautiful place that just begged to be admired. But Alistair on several occasions made it very clear he could not return there. Though he wouldn't say why. The blue Lily in his fingers seemed alive and breathing in Alistair's grasp. The stem fondly holding onto the man that carried it. Almost as if it had it's own will. 

"What are you?"

Jaskier's eyes widened further and his hand clasped in front of his mouth. The words just slipped passed his lips. But Alistair smiled at him and put the Indigo down between the white lilies. 

"Twice now you've both asked me. I suppose it's no more then fair. I haven't exactly been forthcoming. But to admit what i am is to admit to all the pain i've ever felt because of what i am. Yet i owe it to you."

Geralt who had gotten dressed and quietly listened to the conversation while sitting on the only bed in the room, sorting and cleaning his things, finally decided to speak up.

"You don't have to-"

The man shook his head.

"But i do. I've dragged this out long enough. Words are easy. Just wait until you see it too. You've yet to see the worst of me."

He took a breath. Frowning in thought. A hint of darkness looming over his face.

"I am Nøkken."

The word was out. And though a part of Alistair felt relieved, Jaskier could see, and Geralt could sense it made him uncomfortable and it hurt him to admit to it. At the same time, many things clicked with Geralt and yet, there were things that did not fit. He heard of Nøkken. But he never actually encountered one. They were beyond rare and usually easily confused for other water-based spirits or monsters. Kelpie for one. Since they both used a white horse as bait to draw humans in closer. So rare in fact that they barely had one line in the Witcher's bestiary. They were too unknown. Alistair had however been very open about his abilities. Geralt was certain he could fill a page of the bestiary now, if his talents were more like Jaskier's in writing and documenting.

"A water spirit?"

The bard asked. Alistair shook his head.

"Monster. Water Monster. We are far and few and no one exactly knows how a Nøkken is born. Our species are all male. Since we have no females to speak of our reproduction is a tad... vague. Even i don't know how i came to be in the first place. But we are monsters."

Alistair curled up on instinct. As if he was trying to protect himself from an invisible force ready to rip him to shreds or show him all the horrors of his past and force him to relive them.

"Nøkken are cruel. Their nature vile and wicked. They care only for their own vanity reflected in their lily gardens. And if a human were to pluck from such a garden their wrath goes beyond pain, beyond torture, beyond bloodlust. They drown people for fun. Because it amuses them. Because they quench their boredom with the suffering of man. And trust me, when you're immortal, you easily bore."

"You're not a monster"

Geralt rumbled. Jaskier looked back at him, there was a strange look in his eyes. One that the bard had never seen before, but he turned back to Alistair and nodded. Agreeing with the Witcher.

"You are kind and good and you help people. You cure and heal them when no one else will or can. You're not like the others."

Alistair chuckled softly but it sounded broken.

"You've seen what it does to me. I have to hurt myself because i can't heal them otherwise. I have to keep reminding myself that's the price i pay for not hurting them but doing the opposite of what my nature demands. But some days... Some days it's like fighting against breathing. And all i want to do is to walk up to the nearest tavern, take out my violin and drown every patron in their own ale. Some nights my mind craves drawing blood so badly all i can do is hurt myself to satisfy the thirst. With the years it has become easier. But i keep struggling and i can't tell you why. Why am i not like my brethren, ruthless and cold hearted? I don't know. Maybe it's because something happened to me in Dalmar. Or maybe this has been my fate from the start. I wouldn't know."

Silence fell. The story Alistair told about his kind and his own struggles made a deep impact on Jaskier. Even Geralt sat in silence. Understanding the struggle not to be seen as a monster better then anyone. But he couldn't say he struggled against the same murderous urges. Of course he had his own troubles, and at the base of it, there were similarities between them. Jaskier's mind was racing. Many more questions filled his head. But those were silenced with the thoughts of compassion for his friend and the new urge to write a song about the tragedy and turn it into something wonderful. A hero's battle against the darkness in his own life. Alistair would come out victorious. Jaskier was certain of it. And he would help where he could. And this song would be a start. He would create a romantic epic about it. And sing it everywhere. Sing it every time Alistair would watch him perform. To let him know how supportive the Bard was and would be. 

"Still not a monster"

Geralt rumbled. His eyes met Alistair's and the Nøkken nodded at him with watery eyes. Because of the silver in his eyes it almost looked as if Alistair had liquid mercury tears. He was beautiful, even then. 

* * *

**So here it is.  
This is the start page of the game that inspired Alistair's character.  
You can read it all here but you might also notice that,  
i took some liberties with the myth and changed things here and there,  
to better fit the character in the Witcher world.  
** **But a large part of this is actually what Alistair is/can do.**


	14. on the road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt is an idiot who's mind runs away with him at times.

* * *

"It's not that i'm tired or anything. In fact i had a lovely dream in the arms of Lady Heather. Which was so rudely interrupted by her chambermaid. Ah but she apologized! on her knees the lovely thing, i digress- what i mean to say is that my footwear merely isn't what it used to be. I should have purchased a new pair of boots, but the polish for my lute does not come cheap. I had to pick between my work and my body. I don't often pick one over the other, maybe it's time i should-"

"We're not making camp"

Geralt's voice was firm and resolute. He wouldn't be slowed down by the bard again just because he spend the night in the wrong bed. Jaskier had his fun and Geralt let him, but he made it very clear it wasn't going to slow them down. Alistair who walked beside him turned his head to look back at the Bard, complaining about his boots. They did look a bit worse for wear. But it was his own choice to spend his coin on other products. And though they didn't as often run low on it anymore since Jaskier's songs had altered Geralt's reputation and since the three of them with different services would always make a few coins here and there, altering between contracts, needs and performances, Sometimes they still needed to spend every coin carefully. There were always things that took up an unexpected amount of coin. 

Last week, the strap of Roach's saddle tore. The repairs were more expensive then any of them had thought but Geralt demanded only the best for his horse, rightfully so. Once again Jaskier made a pass and attempting to put a bridle on Alistair but the man shut him up by sticking a branch between the bard's teeth and asked him how that felt. Geralt had been most amused though he attempted not to show it. There were more things that just took up more coin. Ingredients for potions, potions themselves, supplies, repairs, sometimes information cost a pretty coin too. They each had a pouch of their own coin even though they shared what they had. Paying in turn for things without ever really keeping score. Jaskier was just a bit more careless in emptying his purse. 

"We still have plenty of day light left Jaskier."

Alistair called over his shoulder. But then he turned around and approached the bard. 

"Here, if you don't have the energy left, you can share some of mine."

Alistair took him by the hand and tugged him in place next to him. Jaskier pouted like a child but then he smiled and he felt partly rejuvenated falling into step beside Alistair. Geralt let Roach carry him as he watched them go off. The two of them. Hand in hand. Again there was that weird feeling playing up inside. A twist in his stomach, slithering with something he couldn't name. Whatever it was, certainly it was part fondness. Watching them go like that made him feel a dull warmth. Barely there, but detectable to his Witcher senses. However, it was a double sided knife, and the other side was much sharper, colder and more bitter. Something that brought cold to his bones. Because he watched them go hand in hand while he sat on his horse and was holding none but the reins. And because they seemed to match so well. Geralt pushed the feeling down like he did with many things threatening to connect him to other people. Getting involved was dangerous. And he didn't want that kind of a complication in his life. For now he could fool himself, trick his mind into thinking that what he had was going to last. But looking at them walking in front of him, a part of him already felt them slip out of his grasp. 

Roach snorted softly, falling into step behind them. Following at an easy pace. Yet Geralt could tell her step was getting heavier, slower. She aged like any horse and he had her for a long time already. Each new day was a blessing. But it also brought him closer to the inevitable. Like it had so many times. She would leave him, and he would have to find another mare to fill the void. One with the same spirit and intelligence, speed and strength. Geralt liked to make himself believe he could find her spirit incarnated in another horse. Because the same kind of horse always seemed to find him. The loyalty, the understanding in it's simplicity, it was always the same. The feel, the bond, it never changed. Even as his horses came and go. That's why he could never bring himself to give his mares another name. She wasn't immortal. But Roach was always with him one way or another. Yet seeing her age and wither away time after time to return a young strong mare was a difficult thing to go through. Horses were good company. Roach even more so. And those goodbyes hurt him more then any monster or human ever had. 

Always loyal, always trusting. Roach, his only steady companion for the journey ahead. A stab of sadness and guilt ran through the Witcher when he thought of all the things he had been through that only ended well because of his clever and trusty companion. How many times had she carried him bloodied and broken to the nearest village to get him patched up? Pushed him into someone's path because she sensed his help was needed. Warned him of people with ill intentions and carried him when he was rejected from a town even if they were both tired? She stuck by him, all this time. Silent and caring. Someone tried to steal her once and she would have none of it. She bucked and trashed until the thief laid at her hooves and could barely escape being trampled. She was loyal. Tying her up was more of a habit and a sign that she was owned rather then a means to keep her from walking away. She would stay. They both knew it.

Geralt leaned a bit forward, softly patting her neck. A silent promise of an extra treat as soon as they'd make up camp. They were too far out to reach any village before dark. Too far from any warm stable. It's not what Geralt would have liked for her, but she never complained about such things. Alistair and Jaskier were talking, though clearly the bard was carrying the conversation, as the downpour of words from his mouth was far more present then Alistair's simplistic replies. But the banter filled the silent void as they carried on. All the while that gnawing feeling in the witcher remained stubbornly present. 

* * *

By the time the sky started coloring in reds and oranges, the Bard still had not let go of Alistair's hand and he used his voice for some entertainment as he sang some songs from his repertoire. Which sounded odd without the company of his lute's supporting notes. Finally Geralt halted Roach while he took in the woodlands of their surroundings. Alistair noticed it and stopped, halting Jaskier with him. The man had a pretty good sense for whatever was happening behind him. The bard would probably have kept walking. 

"Time to make camp Geralt?"

Alistair asked. Jaskier seemed visibly relieved at the mention of 'camp' which would mean rest for his poor feet. The Witcher nodded and steered Roach off the path into the thick of the trees to search for a quiet spot to spend the night. A place where they could build a fire and lay out their bedrolls with enough space. Alistair and Jaskier followed. They traveled a short distance when they came upon a clearing that would suffice as a camp site. Geralt unmounted and left Roach the freedom to roam around a little. Stretch her legs while they build camp. Jaskier found a rock to sit on. Finally having both hands free he itched for his Lute and did not think to help the other two in building the fire or even the ground so they had a good spot to sleep on. 

Geralt searched for stones to make a fire pit and Alistair helped by gathering branches and wood for the fire. Before long they had a fire going and it was only the growling of Jaskier's stomach that seemed to disapprove. 

"Gods I'm starving. I suppose anything is better then the porridge of that fuckhole Berrey calls himself Lord of. Pff. The slimey twat dares to comment with skepticism of the white wolf's heroic deeds. I was there. I know it happened. And he dares, DARES to question me."

Alistair sits back from placing more wood on the fire and chuckles.

"You don't exactly tell the stories as they happened. Or so i've heard."

Jaskier narrowed his eyes.

"And who might have told you that? Tell me so i can offer him a piece of my mind by shoving my lute down his throat."

Geralt feels his mouth corners curl up at Alistair's snicker and he tries everything he can to push it down and remain stoic. 

"Well, actually my source was there too so you'd have to fight the very man who enabled you to write those songs."

Jaskier's mouth was left hanging on a word mid-sentence and he followed Alistair's silver eyes towards Geralt who sat there, quite amused the bard might add, attempting to busy himself with the fire.

"Oh well, that's not the point. The point is the man had some very colorful words in his arsenal, especially pertaining to one witcher. I had my revenge on him."

"By sleeping with his wife"

"By showing her what a boar her husband is and that she deserves more! I am never one for sabotage but my hopes will be that she is the wiser woman and leaves him."

"Next thing you'll know he'll scour the continent for your head. It wouldn't be the first time."

The bickering between Alistair and Jaskier derailed to a sidetrack while Geralt clearly remembered it starting with Jaskier being hungry. Food. Yes. They would need to eat. And to spare their dwindling supplies, they should go hunt for some meat. Or rather, he would have to go hunt for it. 

"Stay here"

He muttered against the two arguing men and left them and Roach by the camp to go scout for some dinner. He wasn't far from the camp. He barely walked 30 feet into the thick of the trees when he felt his medallion respond to something close by. Geralt drew his sword and tried to hone in on what it could be. He checked everything. The sounds, the scents, the sights. Nothing thus far seemed out of the ordinary. But his medallion was never wrong if it did react. (not counting for the fact it didn't react to both high vampires and Alistair apparently.) Then he heard voices from back at the camp yelling.

"What the fuck is that?!"

"Jaskier move!"

"Ow! what is-"

"Duck! Agh-"

Geralt drew his sword, whipped around and turned back at lighting speed. Coming back to the fire as quick as he could. When he burst into the clearing, Jaskier was on the ground like someone pushed him over and Alistair was pinned to a tree by a large spine that bore into his left shoulder and through it into the wood. His bow was on the ground and his fiddle laid in his pack further by his bedroll. They were taken by surprise. Jaskier hissed and cradled his arm when he sat up. It bled a little and there were fragments of a shattered spine poking from the colorful fabric. Geralt could barely avoid another spine flying at them. But the second he dodged it he wished he had let it hit him instead, because it hit Alistair in the leg. Effectively pinning him down further. He groaned but curled his fingers in the direction the spines came from.

"Behind you!"

Jaskier called out just in time for Geralt to deflect another flying spine with his sword. But upon impact it shattered and the pieces bore into his ribs. He spotted the creature responsible for the damage quickly after calculating the trajectory the spine came from. It could have easily been confused for a tall patch of grass or reed. The vicious little thing was preparing to sweep a full blown strike their way. Geralt was faster, A swing of his sword made the creature squeak and collapse. Another spine flew at him, from the right. Missing his head by an inch. There was another one right there and it too was quickly disposed of. Geralt's medallion stopped responding as soon as he killed it. The signal fading away, seeping out with the blood that now poured from the creatures.

"What-"

Jaskier breathed.

"-by Melitele's tits.. was that?"

"Echinops."

Geralt turned around to help Jaskier to his feet. And then turned to Alistair who seemed to be focused on his hands rather then the two spines pinning him to a tree. Geralt took the spine from Alistair's leg and tugged it free. Earning a painful groan from the Nøkken. Then he curled his fingers around the one in his shoulder.

"Ready?"

Alistair nodded and Geralt pulled. Unfortunately the spine cracked and a part of it remained embedded within the man's shoulder while Geralt tossed the other part to the floor. Alistair pushed himself off of the tree, once again focused at his hands. They were shaking slightly. He curled and uncurled his fingers a few times. Geralt still had him by the other shoulder and he tilted his head to silently ask if the other was okay. 

"I need a bath."

Alistair mumbled. Part of his power, or in fact two third of it came from water. And Geralt knew they had been traveling through the wild for a week without a proper bath now. They had just used puddles they came across to dip a rag in and clean off the most dirt. But the three of them were subjected to a drought plaguing these parts. And Alistair hadn't submerged himself nine days straight. Geralt wasn't sure how long he could go for without re-hydrating his skin or form. He had become a bit less talkative and a bit more on edge the longer this dragged on. Of course as a water spirit, that came as no surprise. It would be helpful if they could find a stream somewhere. Definitely now all three of them were injured somewhere. 

"A bath? You need salve and bandages! That thing went straight through your flesh. There's a hole in the tree where it pinned you! look!" 

Jaskier pointed at the tree where a bloody hole was visible on the exact same height as Alistair's injured shoulder. 

"I guess we need to patch each other up now. I didn't know there were Echinops in these parts."

Alistair muttered. Geralt had dropped his sword and stalked over to his pack near Roach who had been unsettled but luckily unharmed by the whole debacle. She bristled quietly and pushed a nose to Geralt's chest. He knew he was hurt, but they all were. Only Roach got away unscathed. 

"Seems you got away just fine"

Geralt mumbled to the horse while he searched his pack. She huffed and nodded her head. Once again moving it to push against Geralt's body.

"Lucky girl. I know."

Geralt turned back with healing salve and bandages. Alistair had pulled his bedroll near the fire and sat down. Jaskier had plopped next to him fussing more over his ruined doublet then his injured arm. The bard looked up.

"Is it still safe to camp here? Are there any more?"

Geralt shook his head while he knelt before them taking a look at Alistair's bloodied leg.

"No, they are usually alone unless it's mating season. Then they hunt in pairs. We're alright now. They don't share hunting grounds."

When he had taken care of the leg Alistair insisted he'd take care of Jaskier first. For that, he'd have to take off the doublet and carefully roll up the sleeve of his shirt. Alistair nursed his own shoulder by pulling out fragments of the spine. 

"We were unfortunate to have to camp here. They wouldn't have attacked if we hadn't dropped in on them. The female was making a nest."

Geralt rumbled. It also meant no babies since he killed the pair prematurely. He really should have been more careful. He should have sensed it before they even settled. But his thoughts had ran away with him and he was oblivious when they were making camp. It just proved he wasn't fit to take care of anyone. If he was he would have made sure they wouldn't have gotten hurt. But now all three of them were bleeding some place and it was his fault. 

"I thought Echinops were a plant species?"

Jaskier mentioned as he tried very hard not to cringe at the stinging on his arm.

"Close. That's the second variety. But to avoid confusion people call them Echispores."

Alistair replied while he struggled to get his vest and shirt off to gain better access to his injured shoulder. Which proved difficult as lifting the injured side's arm hurt. 

"Makes sense. ow ow ow! Geralt that hurts you brute- OW!"

"Quit whining. It barely stings." Geralt huffed

"For YOU maybe. I may be a bit more delicate then that and i am telling you it hurts! What is that even, is that- gods that smells aweful. What is that even. No wait- don't tell me i don't want to know what you're rubbing on my arm. I wish i had some chamomile."

Geralt finished with Jaskier's arm and turned to Alistair. Pausing at the sight of him shirtless with a small trail of blood tickling down his shoulder. Geralt inspected the wound. Usually Alistair's own wounds healed rather quick. But this time the flesh was not knitting back together quite as fast. He needed water. 

"How long?"

The question seemed to come out of no where. But Alistair knew exactly what he meant.

"I could go on three more days before really having visible effects. Like being unable to change into a horse. Having my hair stuck on a permanent green. My skin cracking. Things like that. But that's pushing it."

"We'll find a stream."

"Geralt... You know this wasn't your fault right?"

The question made him pause. Sometimes he really wondered whether the Nøkken had the ability to look inside his head. But Alistair had denied it the one time he asked. 

"Hmm"

"I'm serious."

"Sure."

Once Geralt finished patching them both up, Alistair stood up. Stumbling a bit because of the wound on his leg.

"What are you doing?"

Jaskier looked up. Alistair grinned and picked up his fiddle.

"Since we still need to eat. I'm gonna catch some hares. You take care of Geralt. I'll be back soon."


	15. streaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> blessed water fun and trouble

By the time Jaskier had cleaned up Geralt's wounds on his ribs and bandaged them, Alistair had returned with a set of three hares. He walked slow, tired but with a satisfied smile on his face. He dropped them at Geralt's feet as the witcher usually took it upon himself to clean the hunted animals. Jaskier eyed the little things with a side way glance until the urge became to strong to resist and he reached out to touch the fur. 

"Good gods these are soft. Can i have the fur?"

Geralt shrugged and took out a knife to start cleaning the beasts. Jaskier grimaced and looked away to Alistair who sat down near the fire trying to get the weight off of his injured leg.

"So... How did you catch them? Did you just... Entrance them?"

Alistair looked up. 

"For that there would need to be water near by so i can drown them. Other wise the enchantment would wear off as soon as they are near me and that would cause them to run away again. It would defeat the purpose of catching them."

"Then how-"

"choked them."

Geralt said. Jaskier widened his eyes. Alistair nodded softly.

"Sorry. You can smell that. Should've made it quick but i'm a bit out of sorts."

" 's fine"

Alistair sighed and leaned back. He seemed a bit more at ease then before. Of course, the evil in his veins had been given some nourishment. And it calmed him even if he struggled against it most days. Geralt could smell it on him. That slight tinge of darkness. A shadow to his gentle personality. They sat in silence, waited for the hares to cook and then ate in silence. Well, except for Jaskier. The bard was never truly silent. His idle chatter, singing and musing filled the void of silence so often it had become uncomfortable to have complete and utter silence. Eventually the three of them each laid on their bedroll and drifted off.

* * *

"Why does he get to ride Roach? I never get to ride Roach. It's not fair! I'm also injured. I could have been dead. I lost a lot of blood last night!"

The bard rambled on while he walked next to Geralt who had insisted upon Alistair taking the weight off of his injured leg. He had put the man on Roach without pardon, feeling with concern how light Alistair was becoming. Jaskier had it too. Losing the meat on his bones. If they could just get out of this fucking drought things would turn around for the better again surely. 

"Because he's the only one of us with an injured leg, Jaskier."

Geralt growled back. It didn't really sound like a snarl even if it was meant like one. Which it wasn't. At least with the all the complaints, Geralt could tell Jaskier was doing just fine. It was the moments that he got quiet that actually made the witcher worry the most. Even though he pretended that he couldn't care less. Funny how the people he wanted to fool never fell for his pretense while everyone else did. 

After a while of walking Roach decided she was going towards something other then the end of this path and took a left. Geralt halted after three steps and turned to the place where his horse was suppose to be walking. He frowned.

"Alistair?"

"I'm not doing it. I think Roach senses something."

"Hmm"

Geralt huffed and followed the horse. Trusting her instincts. Jaskier trailed behind him. Wondering out loud what they were doing following a horse. Then he went on to defend his words by saying that he knew Roach was no ordinary horse. Yet he still viewed this detour with skepticism. While he was talking they came closer and closer to a sound rising from the usual ambiance. 

"Shh."

Geralt hushed Jaskier. Something got picked up by his hearing. A rushing sound.

"You hear that?"

Alistair frowned and shook his head. Jaskier couldn't hear it either. But Roach neighed happily and trotted forward with Alistair on her back. Coming closer and closer to the rushing sound that grew louder and louder until she burst out of the treeline and onto the pebbled banks of a small river. A river that was streaming stubbornly through the dried out land. 

"Water!"

Jaskier called out happily. Alistair threw himself around Roach's neck and hugged her.

"Bless your beautiful horse heart, you are the most clever girl in all of the continent."

He slid from her back, his injured leg ignored as he threw everything off. Unbuckled the belts and kicked off his boots. He stripped his clothes leaving a trail towards the water. Finally when his toes hit the cool surface, Alistair groaned in delight and let himself fall into the cold water. Jaskier threw everything aside just so he could cup his hands and take as much water as he felt he could drink without bursting. He gulped it down greedily not caring if his shirt or doublet got wet. Ruined clothes were a small sacrifice he could make for this heavenly gift.

Geralt was the only one who held back and gathered their stuff from where the other two had dropped it. He arranged it in a neat pile. Folded Alistair's clothes and put them near the water on a dry rock. He took Roach and relieved her of her saddle and her bridle. Pressing his head to her nose.

"Thanks Roach"

He let her roam free for a bit to reward her for her help. She happily sauntered over to the river and stepped her hooves in. Nosing at Alistair's head who laid there soaking up water like a sponge. He chuckled and pushed her nose away.

"Alright alright, yes you're the best. Let me soak a little and i'll thank you with a good bath."

His hair had turned green just from the relief of being surrounded by water again. 

"How's the water?"

Jaskier asked from the side. Not hiding the fact that he let his eyes rake over Alistair's naked form. 

"Heavenly. You should come in!"

Now that was an invitation Jaskier didn't need to be handed twice. He accepted it by shrugging off his doublet, pulling his shirt over his head and working himself out of his boots, breeches and small clothes. He left them where he dropped them and waded into the fresh stream.

"Gah- It's cold! You said it was good!"

He hissed. Alistair chuckled and pulled Jaskier down.

"That's just in your head. The water's fine."

Jaskier yelped and tried to get back up. Struggling while play fighting with Alistair but eventually he allowed himself to sit in the water on one of the submerged rocks. His shoulders barely breaking the water surface. He turned to the shore where Geralt had arranged their stuff and cleaned up after them. 

"Geralt! You should join us! And don't grunt and tell us no. We all need a bath and that includes you!"

The bard called out happily. He spoke truth. Geralt noticed he did carry a distinct on-the-road scent of sweat and dirt and other things. Truth be told a bath wasn't the only thing that made the Witcher strip and wade into the water like the other two had done. It was what was waiting in the water for him. Alistair and Jaskier's happy faces. Their voices calling to him. Good thing they weren't sirens or Geralt would have been fucked. Alistair climbed onto Roach's back naked while she waded towards the middle of the river where her hooves barely reached the rocky bottom. He splashed some water on her neck and rubbed the dirt out of her coat and she loved it. Geralt would have called her a love sick foal if his mind hadn't told him just how much she earned it. With her hard work and her getting on in years and helping them with finding the one thing they needed most. A good stream to bathe in and regain some of their energy. And to heal. Jaskier still had his injured arm, Geralt still had the red cuts on his ribs, but when he looked at Alistair he noticed his shoulder and leg were clean. The wounds were gone.

Jaskier made his way over to Geralt and tugged at his shoulders.

"Lay down so i can wash your hair."

The Witcher didn't protest. He knew better by now then to struggle against the bard's wishes. Especially when it came to taking care of him. He laid down in the cool water and let Jaskier comb through his hair with his fingers, rubbing out all the dirt, dust and salt crusts. Alistair worked on bathing Roach and scrubbed her down the best he could. Her pleased huffing and snorting made it to Geralt even with his ears clogged by water. Jaskier hummed as he washed Geralt's hair and honestly after having spend a week without a proper way to wash up, this was rather nice. In fact it relaxed the witcher to a drowsy state. Between sleep and wake. Sloshing sounds next to him pulled him back to the waking world and Alistair sat down next to him, placing a hand on Geralt's ribs.

"Al, don't you dare"

Geralt grunted but the Nøkken showed a stubborn little smile. The next thing Geralt felt was a warmth tingling his ribs and when he raised his head a little he could see he was no longer injured. He then looked at Alistair but the red cuts that appeared on his ribs instead were already fading. They healed nearly as fast as his own wounds. Alistair reached for Jaskier's arm next and healed him too. Apparently having him soak up a lot of water had done him more then good. He seemed fully restored. 

"You worry too much. Water is my home front. No one can beat me on familiar territory. This is where i am the strongest."

"I'm sorry- Al? Is that a new thing? Are we doing nicknames here? Should i be calling you Wolf then?"

Jaskier teased while still running his fingers through Geralt's white hair. The Witcher glared and splashed at the bard.

"No."

"Aww. But i thought that would be so much fun. Like having code names or something. It's what they do with spies and secret organisations within the courts of the kingdoms."

"And how would you know that?"

"I may or may not have shared the bed with a spy or two.. maybe three? The best thing about that is coaxing out their secrets at night, have fun, and having to run for your life in the morning."

"Only you would call that fun."

"Says the brooding Witcher who kills monsters for a living. You can't tell me you don't enjoy the lifestyle at least a little. A very wise though not very popular poet once said: A good fight is like a good fuck. It's engaging, fun, possibly life threatening and it will leave you drained in the end."

Alistair snorted.

"That's horrible. Was that you?"

Jaskier's mouth fell open in scandal and insult.

"Me?! I make none but pristine carefully constructed word wonders. I would have you know good sir that i shan't tolerate such insults."

Geralt gained a grin where he laid and Alistair started laughing.

"You don't believe me? Here! Have at you, you scoundrel!"

Jaskier started splashing to Alistair who laughed and started splashing back. They were like two little children fighting and Geralt was caught in the crossfire. He quickly sat up and moved away from the rain of droplets. It only took a moment for Jaskier to stop splashing and beg for mercy while panting and trying to catch his breath. He held up a hand.

"Alright. You've won. Gods, being a water creature should be seen as cheating. It's not fair."

Alistair chuckled and shook his head.

"To be fair, _Jask._ You started it."

The bard grinned and waded a bit further into the river. Scrubbing at his own hair. Alistair came to sit beside Geralt. Just enjoying the cool waters. His hair had turned back to it's blonde color. The ends of it swaying in the water. 

"How are you feeling?"

The witcher asked. The Nøkken hummed.

"Much better. I'm glad Roach found this place."

Jaskier was done washing his hair and slowly waded back to the other two. Taking a seat on the other side of Geralt. Roach still waddled through the stream herself, clearly enjoying the water too. They sat enjoying themselves in silence. Well... almost silence. Though Jaskier managed to keep his words to himself for once, he did hum one of his many familiar tunes. Slowly, the part where they sat were surrounded by waterlilies. Popping up one after the other, growing into a beautiful patch. Alistair had his eyes closed but when a stem brushed his fingers he jolted and he sat up straight. Looking around in sheer confusion and slight panic. Geralt hadn't paid any attention to it before, because Alistair was prone to sprout lilies whenever he was around water. And even Jaskier didn't think anything was amiss. That was until Geralt discovered these lilies were not white in color, but had a slight dust of pink.

"Oh look, these are bigger then the ones you made before."

Jaskier said delighted, still unaware. He reached out to pick one close to him.

"Jaskier NO! Don't touch it!"

Geralt janked his hand away just in time. They both looked up at Alistair.

"He's right these aren't mine-"

"-No darling they are mine."

Roach neighed angrily at the sudden stranger in their midst. As the other three turned to the middle of the river that had a figure raise out of the water with it's torso. His hair was white near the roots, fading into a deep pink at the tips. His eyes glowed the same deep pink and his skin was grey and covered in marks like seaweed tattoos. Around the eyes were shadows that made them seem more hollow. And he was holding a brown fiddle. Alistair hissed and in defense his hair turned green and his eyes glowed white. The other Nøkken seemed surprised by this revelation. Meanwhile Geralt calculated how fast he could get to his sword, while Jaskier kept staring at the creature in the middle of the river. Funny how they'd never met a Nøkken in their life until Alistair and suddenly another popped up right in front of them.

"What do you want? If it's the men, you can't have them. If it's the horse, you're out of luck too. If it's me you want, i make no promises."

Alistair hissed. The other Nøkken tilted it's head.

"You changed, yet you're still in human form... Such power i have never seen. How do you do it?"

"Practice"

Alistair replied. The creature let out a shrill laugh. One almost painful to the ears.

"you expect me to believe that? I'm almost 500 years old. I have never been able to go half way. It's one or the other, never both. What's your secret?"

Jaskier turned his head to Alistair while Geralt carefully and slowly tried to slip out of the water to the riverbank, to where his sword was. It wouldn't be the first time he'd have to fight something naked.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Alistair responded quick. Almost too quick. and too irritated. Oh he definitely knew what the other Nøkken was talking about. The creature inched closer but a strong hiss of Alistair stopped it from closing in. It paused. 

"oh? So defensive, should i play you a song?"

The Nøkken lifted his fiddle to his shoulder but halted when Alistair hissed louder and curled his fingers, White lilies sprouted all around him faster then you could say Waterlily. They were bigger then the pink ones and started to suffocate them, battling for the surface of the water.

"Strike one note on that fiddle of yours and you're a dead weed."

The other let down his fiddle, looking quite disappointed. 

"Too bad, i would have loved to play."

"I'm sure you would. But we both know what happens if one of us plays our fiddle. Never mind both. And that is a battle i will not be fighting today."

Alistair curled his hand into a fist. The white lilies becoming even more aggressive as they destroyed all the pink ones in their path. The other Nøkken hissed.

"You're powerful. More so then i."

"Maybe that's because i'm older. You're just a child compared to me."

"No i don't think that's it. You have something. A flower of the blood. The tears of our kind. You possess the Indigo."

Alistair stiffened. He turned his head to look at Jaskier with a worried look, then searched around for Geralt. The witcher had reached his sword and now sat on a rock close to the water, glaring at the Nøkken in the middle. The bard of course couldn't keep his mouth shut. Too many questions raised in him.

"Wait, what? If he's 500 hundred and he's a child how old are you? What does he mean? What does power have to do with the Indigo? Why can't he transform halfway?"

"So many questions~" The strange Nøkken purred. He came closer and his form changed into that of a handsome young man. Pale, dark hair and aquatic colored eyes. 

"My this one is so full of them. You didn't tell him did you? Of course you didn't. But you showed them the Indigo." 

He kept walking, but Alistair stood frozen in his spot. Not even able to lift a finger while the stranger approached him.

"Should we answer his questions?"

The creature chuckled and ran a single fingertip down Alistair's body. That hit the bard the wrong way. He stood up instantly wanting to put some distance between the two.

"Listen you- whatever you want just spit it out and quit playing your games. I don't need answers to any of my questions if Al doesn't want to give them and you.. can kindly fuck off to wherever you came from."

He emphasized his words with hand gestures and pointing fingers and the strange Nøkken hissed at him and changed back to it's creature form instantly, showing it's sharp pointed teeth. It prompted Geralt to step in by pointing his sword at the creature. 

"Leave it alone, or i will cut your head off."

The creature chuckled as he stepped away.

"My how you've trained your pets well my dear. But you know as well as i, that it won't last. We were not build to love and cherish. We were made to destroy."

The voice of it contorted the more it talked and in the end it sounded hollow and echoed and split in high and low notes at the same time. The Nøkken raised his hands to play his fiddle and it triggered something in Alistair. He growled and attacked. His form changing. In addition to his green hair and glowing white eyes, his face twisted into something alien. No brows, no nose and his ears gained an unnatural form. His entire skin lost color and became wet and sticky like water, It turned into a transparency that allowed Geralt and Jaskier to see through him, as only the shimmering edges of his body, and the lines of his form were visible to the naked eye. He showed his teeth, larger and scarier then that of the other Nøkken. Like shark teeth in a pearly row. And he snapped at the other creature. Snatched his fiddle and broke it in half. The strings sprang and cut through his arm, but they cut through it like they would water and the damage instantly disappeared.

Then he wrestled the other Nøkken for it's bow and snapped it too. He gabbed a lily pad from the surface and used the stem to wrap around the other Nøkken's neck. Strangling him. The two struggled through the water. Slashing at each other and fighting with water and lilies alike. Until Alistair broke through the defenses and grabbed the other by the throat. Covering his body in stems and pads and flowers that pulled and pulled, red lines appearing underneath the stems from the strength which they tightened around the body with. The other Nøkken choked and from it's throat more stems and pads grew until in the very last moment, it tore him apart. 

The pieces of the dead Nøkken turned to foam and slowly dissipated, vanishing as they were carried down the stream. Apart from the violence there was another thing that completely shook the Bard and captured the Witcher's attention. This was Alistair's true form. And it was magnificently terrifying. 


End file.
